Does adderall shrink your

Without this knowledge I’m about to share, I couldn’t maintain even half of the healthy habits and adulting that I do today. Four years ago, If you had told me I have ADHD, I’d have said “but I’m not hyperactive or disrespectful!…” NOPE, that’s not what ADHD is, turns out there’s an “inattentive presentation” (formerly called ADD) which means a lot of people daydream or have many trains of thought or battle fatigue and severe executive dysfunction which we call procrastination even though the inability to start an important task until the stress of the last minute is quite different than neurotypical (non-ADHD) people putting off something they don’t want to do. ADHD CAN include hyperactivity, especially in many young boys, but plenty of guys have inattentive ADHD, myself included, and most women, girls, and anyone assigned female at birth are more likely to have the inattentive presentation, not to mention, while hyperactivity can fade with time, adult ADHD can be even more difficult and impairing than the stereotypical cases of childhood ADHD which most media, schools, and doctors focus on.
Do you often need caffeine or stimulants in order to get any work done? Do you frequently misplace important things like your phone, keys, wallet, bottles, clothes, etc.? Do you have trouble stopping enjoyable things like video games or social media and starting important things like homework or paperwork? Do you find that you finally have the energy to clean your room when you’re pumped with stress and adrenaline about an upcoming deadline?
Sure not everyone who occasionally experiences these things has ADHD, but if it’s a pattern, you may have been living your whole life with a brain that doesn’t reward you or motivate you in the way people expect it to.
This is not medical advice, that’s not allowed on this sub and I am not a doctor. Ask a doctor. Only doctors can diagnose and prescribe treatments for ADHD. I’m just someone who has ADHD and unfortunately has to adult with it, and I want to share some adulting experiences and maybe introduce a few of you to the idea that some problems aren’t “laziness” but are understandable biological differences that can be supported or improved. This post is what I would have told my past self, with some of it generalized to people of all sexes and people who may not have ADHD. Read more about adult ADHD here
I got diagnosed through neuropsychological testing at age 18 after burning out repeatedly in a difficult high school. ADHD medication has really helped me, but even without medication, understanding your brain and knowing you’re not inherently “lazy” or “weak” is empowering.
Having ADHD means that the guide to self-care on page 3 of the adulting master course pinned atop this subreddit is extra important to follow in order to maintain mental ability and physical health.
I cannot overstate how helpful ADHD has been in my life and my understanding. Just spend some time looking at the various posts and comments and adulating advice in there. See if you relate to anything or learn anything. ADHDmeme is also funny and often relatable. I thought I was alone in my time blindness (losing track of time), my rejection sensitivity and emotional disregulation, the severe procrastination and executive dysfunction, staying up late staring at my phone despite telling myself every night that “this is the night I’ll go to bed early and catch up on some of that lost sleep.” I thought I was alone in my nail biting and skin/acne picking, my years spent convincing myself I was always about to turn over a new leaf and be better, and then I’d end up watching YouTube or Netflix or playing games all night because at some stage of my burnout. I lost the ability to feel stressed enough to get real work done without someone threatening literal harm to me.
Last year I made a post like this on getdisciplined which got over 1,300 up votes, 300 shares, and over 200 comments. I Learned some very important things from my post last year, and wanted to include the best recommendations and observations from the comment section in an updated post. Check out the comments in that post if you’re looking for even more answers and personal experiences to read!
At first, I chose getdisciplined because it’s one of the larger self-control focused subs, but I really think the world would benefit from more “ADHD Posting” in all the productivity/procrastination/sleep hygiene/ self help subreddits, basically all the places I lurked when I spent years searching for answers, never realizing I could be struggling with ADHD. I’d love others to help make this happen. It’s amazing how many people out there are searching for this realization they always half-believe is out there somewhere, that their struggles are valid and the solution isn’t buying YET ANOTHER PLANNER to misplace or starting yet another exercise program or health binge or hobby or experimental supplement. Not that new habits never work, but I can’t describe how much easier it is for me to form healthy habits now that my ADHD is better managed.
Conclusion: While I’ve spent the last year trying to help people respond to global issues, and help people locally in my community, it’s probable that nothing I’ve done has helped more people than that post I made last year. The positive messages I’ve received have brought me to tears and I relate so deeply with so many of the personal stories and struggles people have shared with me both publicly and over direct message. I encourage you to share this post with people in your life who may be facing similar struggles.
TLDR: I was diagnosed with ADHD as an adult. Finding medication and therapy turned my life around (hence why I’m posting on adulting ). Depending how you test for it, at least 4% to over 10% of humans have ADHD, A lot of adults and teens never realize they have ADHD because it often doesn’t present as being hyperactive (especially but not only in people assigned female at birth) or they think they “grew out of their hyperactivity” but they still have many or all the impairing symptoms of adult ADHD which we have medical terms for but don’t have good layman’s terms for, for example my chronic inescapable procrastination and difficulty starting and finishing homework assignments is called “executive dysfunction” and its a major ADHD symptom, and there are many more (see the links to resources throughout my post to learn more). Laziness is a choice made willingly, executive dysfunction is not. Executive dysfunction can be caused by many things, including depression and brain damage, but don’t let your own imposter syndrome convince you it couldn’t be ADHD.
Some statistics on how common ADHD is in the U.S. https://www.additudemag.com/statistics-of-adhd/
Here’s a good read if you want the basics on adult ADHD from health line, keep in mind this is written in layman’s terms and not everything will apply to you if you have the primarily-inattentive presentation rather than the primarily-hyperactive presentation or the combined inattentive-hyperactive presentation of ADHD. And a similarly helpful article from ADDitude magazine
Some people have a lot more issues, labor, responsibilities, and commitments, going on than others, and things like burnout and chronic fatigue don’t only affect people with ADHD, but its good to understand what ADHD looks like even if you’re positive you’re one of the people lucky enough not to live with it.
Acknowledgements: Thank you if you decide to cross-post this somewhere where you think it’ll help people, I’m not a medical professional, I’m just a 22 year old who was diagnosed with ADHD and depression at age 18 and feel that understanding ADHD and finding the right medication have helped me to turn my life around, drastically reduce my sources/feelings of anxiety and depression, and overall be closer to the person I wish to become in life. There’s a very robust consensus on the major ADHD symptoms and treatments (medication and therapy) I mention in this post, as well as the fact that ADHD is often inherited from a parent. There are some other conditions that can “look like” ADHD or share some of the symptoms, but in my opinion, if you test within the diagnostic criteria for ADHD, it’s reasonable to try out the variety of typically-effective medications even if you also think you might be on the autism spectrum or might have or anemia or Lyme or traumatic brain injury or insomnia or PCOS or whatever else. On another note, people with Autism (who make up ~1% of the population) are more likely to also have ADHD (compared to the general population). If 4-10% of the human population has ADHD as some estimates suggest, then most people with ADHD don’t have autism. There is some symptom overlap in sensory sensitivity, social difficulties, and special interests/hyperfixations, but I don’t identify with the autism label/diagnosis unlike many people I know who better fit those criteria.
People with ADHD often thrive in fast-paced high-stakes, interesting, structured, and accountable work environments. Paramedics, ER nurses, armed forces, professional athletes, live-streamers, building trades, and many, many more, this is really as varied as we are as people, and we can certainly become engineers or scientists or whatever tickles our fancy so long as we find ways to study the materials and pass the tests.
There are times when I can practically FEEL my attention span shrinking after spending hours of scrolling on Reddit instead of getting physical activity, but I have enough time in my life right now and I’m willing to deal with being more distractable today if it means helping you beautiful people.
ADHD is not a “trend” even if YOU only recently started hearing about it for some reason. It’s also not a cute little quirk, it can and does cause dangerous behaviors and immense suffering for children and adults with ADHD who don’t have proper support, understanding, and professional help. At the same time, I don’t identify with the term “disabled” despite seeing ADHD as a severe impairment and obstacle to many of my academic and life goals.
Yes there is currently a medication shortage for some stimulant ADHD medications, and it may be many months until things improve, but there are still many treatments out there and there is power in understanding yourself and starting on this journey sooner, rather than later. If you’ve related to a lot of things over said, then you and I both know how easy it can be to put off the important tasks in life that don’t feel exciting or urgent. If you are like me, then believe me when I say that determining how you address your ADHD will determine the course of the rest of your life, and determining the course of the rest of your life is INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT. If not now, When? How many sticky notes and reminders and concerned friends will it take to make you look into ADHD before you forget you ever saw this post?
FAQ + nice comments I received: (Skip to the comments if this section feels too long for you) The following are comments from my post last year, none of their personal anecdotes should be mistaken for medical advice, which is not allowed on this subreddit.
The top comment is: You know , I have been facing all these things you mentioned from past 4 years and earlier I did thought that I have ADHD(executive dysfunction) but I don't know whenever this thought comes to me I feel like I'm just lying to myself and using ADHD as an excuse . I know I should get testing to be assured but my parents don't allow this as they are super super conservative and think such things don't exist and physical illness is the only sort of problem that could happen to me
The top response is: Whether or not you get tested, you can still follow ADHD resources and learn coping skills. Using timers, breaking down tasks, etc all of these will help a lot in the duration that you figure out the next steps towards diagnosis.
I also want to reiterate that ADHD is not the only cause for executive dysfunction, or “procrastination, laziness, rotting in one place, etc.”
U/otarU said: Having trouble with executing things could also be depression, I thought I had ADHD, but I did well on on the neuropsychological tests, after I started taking depression medication and having a healthier lifestyle my problems are almost gone
And U/blubberginbinch responded: thank you soooo much for saying this!!! it’s so true. the reverse also happens. i thought i was severely depressed, got on antidepressants, felt my depression improve…and still couldn’t get anything done. because i also have ADHD to go with my stress-agitated depression. “i only get things done when i’m stesssed” with a big old dollop of “i feel miserable when i’m stressed” is a dangerous combo when unchallenged and misunderstood. thank goodness for a good therapist and wellbutrin lol
U/riricide said:
Yes. I was diagnosed a few years ago after dealing with guilt and procrastination that severely affected my life. So yes, please look into ADHD. It's annoying when everyone is like "I also deal with procrastination" and it's easy to dismiss your own issues as "laziness". The difference between laziness and severe procrastination is you're not trying to cure your laziness all the time and feeling guilty and ineffective. Also please look into anxiety and depression - they go hand in hand for many folks with ADHD and it helps a lot to learn coping skills and/or get treatment for those as well.
U/fdbog spoke to the feeling of not having a stable memory or sense of self: What you described is definitely executive function problems. Which are a subset of ADHD issues. Those are the easiest for most to understand as they have some overlap with normal experience. Where the disconnect and true difference comes is from the memory issues imo. People take for granted having an easily accessible narrative of their likes/dislikes and who they are as a person. They see the progression from a->b->c and they can work backwards from c to derive a without even really thinking. We can't rely on this, it's there but not with any consistency. It's a perpetual identity crisis.
One user said: This describes almost literally every human being, though And another replied: It's about the extent of the issue. If you don't want to do your homework, so you play videogames instead, that's pretty normal. If you literally can't do your homework even though you want to and know you need to and the deadline is tomorrow but you just can't start it and this is the seventh assignment you've missed this semester but you want to be a good student, it is likely indicative of a larger mental health issue.
One user asked: What if I can read a novel for hours, or play a game for hours, and with utmost focus, amidst a noisy crowd (or similar situations)? What if my poor attention ability is strictly restricted to studying? That's not ADHD, is it? At least, that's what I think.
I responded: That’s especially likely to be ADHD. My 10-hour minecraft sessions are legendary We can hyper focus on things we find enjoyable and rewarding, I struggle to stop doing fun stuff and struggle even more to start doing hard but important stuff.
U/Queenspammy said: I always denied it. No way I could have it. Then I read a story about someone who said they always did those large school projects the night before because of ADHD. That’s what I did… then I looked more and kept reading things people did because of it, and not just the description of symptoms and it clicked that’s what it was…. Just recently diagnosed in the past few months. Something I didn’t realize was so bad from adhd was my short term memory and my anxiety. With the adderall shortage I didn’t have meds for a month and felt like I was getting Alzheimer’s. I didn’t realize how bad it was till I went on medication. I knew I would forget things so had a bunch of tricks I used to do, so it never occurred to me something was wrong, just felt like things would slip my mind. I originally sought a diagnosis because I switched careers and could not focus. I would procrastinate and could not process what I was learning because my mind would wander. I was an honors student in high school and really wonder how well I could have done if I wasn’t fighting myself the whole time. Wouldn’t have heard those infamous words, “just think of what you could have done if you applied yourself.”
And u/swiftpawpaw said: Recently got diagnosed at age 34. On Ritalin now (haven’t tried anything else so far, but will eventually) and getting therapy. So far it cleared up about 363984 questions I had about myself and my lacking ability to get just about anything done in life without extreme amounts of stress.
When asked: How do you get tested? I’ve had a lot of suspicions over the last year that I have it but I have no idea where to start
I replied: Honestly start with your primary care doctor. They can either give you a short diagnostic questionnaire (easy way) or refer you to more specialized ADHD testing (hard and slow way) but hopefully they’ll know where to start and if ADHD treatment is right for you. If they make some random excuse like “only kids have it” then find someone who actually knows what they’re talking about. You can probably search for ADHD specialists in your area, I hope that helps.
^the above info provably varies by country and in the US there are some online services (I think one is called “Done”) which advertise testing and diagnosis and prescription for a monthly fee, I assume they work well enough given they’ve existed for a few years, but may not be covered by some or all insurance. I’d love to hear in the comments if anyone’s done more research on this.
U/FountainsOfFluids said: Spot on. I mention it a lot, too. Got diagnosed finally earlier this year, after a lot of learning and procrastination. The meds really help, as does regular exercise and diet. For me, it presented as low energy, which I interpreted as "laziness" and had very low self-opinion. I wish I had gotten diagnosed as a kid. I did ok in school, but as a young adult I pissed away a lot of years without direction or drive.
An extremely important consideration from u/Mysteriam which I hope I’ve addressed more thoroughly is: that ADHD presents differently in people assigned female at birth and that a lot of our misconceptions about ADHD are because it was initially studied in young boys, which tend to have predominantly hyperactive attention. I never thought my fidgeting and thousands of racing thoughts was also a symptom of hyperactivity. It’s called AD/HD, as in attention deficit and attention hyperactivity. Not that I think the name is fully accurate. People with ADHD also have trouble with emotional regulation so if you find that being rejected really destabilizes you that’s something to consider.
TLDR (again): I was diagnosed with ADHD as an adult. Finding medication and therapy turned my life around (hence why I’m posting on adulting). Depending how you test for it, at least 4% to over 10% of humans have ADHD, A lot of adults and teens never realize they have ADHD because it often doesn’t present as being hyperactive (especially but not only in people assigned female at birth) or they think they “grew out of their hyperactivity” but they still have many or all the impairing symptoms of adult ADHD which we have medical terms for but don’t have good layman’s terms for, for example my chronic inescapable procrastination and difficulty starting and finishing homework assignments is called “executive dysfunction” and its a major ADHD symptom, and there are many more (see the links to resources throughout my post to learn more). “Laziness” is a willing choice, executive dysfunction is not. Executive dysfunction can be caused by many things, including depression and brain damage, but don’t let your own imposter syndrome convince you it couldn’t be ADHD.
The whole point I’d this post is “talk to your doctor if you’re having trouble adulting like I was.” If mods deem anything in this post to be medical advice, I hope I can be contacted to edit the post rather than having it deleted.

I am 50yo F 5'4"/115 lb N/S
MEDS: Sertraline 25mg, Venlafaxine ER 150mg, Levothyroxine 100mcg, Clonidine 0.1 mg × 2/d, Vyvanse 50mg, Adderall 20mg (1/d)
I have to see a shrink every 3 months who prescribes several medications. Two of these drugs are Schedule II for ADHD. The doctor is perpetually booked for usually 3 months out. If you fail to schedule your next appointment in a timely mamner (meaning IMMEDIATELY after your last appointment), you're screwed. Since my appointments are almost always virtual, there is no usually front desk available, so I have to try to remind myself to get it done.
Their office has recently instituted a new policy that they will no longer send any additional scripts to your pharmacy to hold you over until the next appointment, no exceptions. While I did not wait until I ran out to schedule my next session, when I called to schedule on 1/23, the soonest they could get me in was for 3/4...and this is just for a zoom meeting! Obviously, I am going to run out. This is bad because I need them for work.
I called my GP to see if he could help me out, but he won't. This hardly ever happens, and when it does, it's usually only for a few days so I just tough it out. I have been on my current medication regiment since 2016, and I have been fully compliant, consistent, and I have not ever misused my meds. Yet, now suddenly I am being made to feel like a drug addict, when in reality I need them to help me stay on top of work, and important stuff ( like bills, paperwork, and chores). Without them I just get really, really tired. Too tired to think about complicated stuff.
So now I'm stuck. What do I do? Coffee and energy drinks can only do so much. Any suggestions? I am resigned to prepare to wean myself off again, but for this length of time, I'm worried that I will drop the ball when critical things need to get done in a timely manner. I also work long hours at a place that demands a lot of my energy. I need to be able to switch ON right away and stay there as long as the situations demand. How do I go about achieving that? I think this may require some careful planning.
And suggestions you may have are appreciated.

Female, 38, 190 lbs and 5’4”. Trazodone, Vilazodone, Vyvanse.
I have had SVT and heart palpitations my whole life. Even in childhood, I’ve never been particularly robust, as I tend to run out of breath and get exhausted very easily. SVT is triggered by stress, any kind of physical work or activity (sometimes major, sometimes minor). Often an episode is triggered by bending over - weird, but that’s what happens. Working out of any kind is a gamble - sometimes it’ll happen and sometimes it won’t, but at any rate, I can’t exercise or even do mild activity for very long due to the extreme muscle pain it causes.
My long muscles feel it worst, but it will extend into my back, shoulders, neck, and abdomen. I consistently wake up with muscle pain, no matter how much I’m sleeping, what position I’m sleeping in, or what kind of mattress. I’ve had two mattresses in two years and it makes no difference for the pain, nor does the amount of water I drink. I can’t even walk half a block down the street at work without needing to take frequent stops. I’ve had my shoes professionally fitted and it makes no difference as regards the pain.
I’ve always been groggy, but right about the time I hit my thirties, I started having horrible brain fog - I can’t even organize my own thoughts or even speak coherently half the time. Sometimes I feel so sleepy during the day that I’ll go to bed super early and sleep for twelve hours and still feel sleepy. The irony is that I can’t sleep at all without the trazodone due to my anxiety, but even when I’m taking the smallest possible amount just to ensure I sleep, I feel like a zombie the next day, despite the number of stimulants I’ve been given over the years - Ritalin, Adderall, Provigil, Nuvigil….
Now I’m 38 and feel like someone forty years older. My brain fog, constant sleepiness, heart palpitations, inability to exercise or lose weight, and intense muscle pain are impacting my life so negatively that I just can’t deal with it anymore. I don’t even feel alive, just kind of like a sleepy robot with rusty hinges that squeaks and croaks its way through half-motions.
I’ve seen so, so many doctors. They all do the same thing:

• Order blood tests. Always a CBC, sometimes lipids, less often basic thyroid function.
• Order a sleep study.
• Twice, a holter monitor. The last one I used was broken but he said it didn’t matter.

All these come back normal, or abnormal “but nothing to worry about”. The sleep studies have just proven that I’m really sleepy and don’t have sleep apnea.
At that point, every single doctor tells me that there’s nothing more to be done and more than one has recommended I “follow up with my psychiatrist.” I am not exaggerating - these are all the studies I ever get. I don’t know why we even have x-rays, table tilt tests or MRIs, when doctors apparently find everything they need to know using these handful of tests. Over and over again, same tests, same results, normal or abnormal-but-okay, and then nothing again. If I ask for follow-up or further studies I get dismissed because if these tests came back normal, no more are necessary. “Self-advocating” has proven a waste of time, over and over again. It doesn’t make them more concerned, it just seems to piss them off.
Got yet another “Your tests are normal so you must be crazy, it’s your shrink’s job to change your medications” message from another doctor today. Same tests as always. I read back through all of them - all the same old CBCs, lipids, thyroids and sleep studies, over and over again - over time in my online patient portal and I realized that next month is the 10-year anniversary of when I started to seek diagnosis and treatment for this. It has not gotten better in that time. It has only gotten worse.
At this point, I’m done. This has gone on for long enough and I can’t fight for myself anymore. It is because I’m a woman? Hell yes it’s because I’m a woman, but I can’t change that so I am giving up. I am tired of waking up every morning in pain, being unable to think, being unable to do all these things that people my own age, and older, around me can do with such ease, being unable to live my life as I should, and having these doctors look at the exact same numbers on a sheet of paper and tell me I’m being hysterical. I haven’t visited my beloved local botanical gardens in years because I can’t even do the walking around there.
Now, all I want is for this to end. I just want something to make myself comfortable. I want some kind of program or treatment option….how do I describe it. You’re not dying, or at least not dying quickly - you’re not “terminal”, but your quality of life is being so negatively impacted that you don’t have anything else left but to just make things as easy as possible. I’m not trying to seek attention or pity, although I am very angry about everything. But more than anything else, I’m just extremely tired and out of energy to keep tilting at these windmills. (For those who might say “Have you talked to your doctors about POTS/fibromyalgia/etc?.”, yes, I have, but it’s never gone anywhere. One nurse even told me that fibromyalgia is a “fake disease” because there’s no test to determine if someone has it.)
I don’t mean like one of those programs in which you go to a “pain clinic” for dangerous drugs. I just need a program that more acknowledges that I’m out of options and things aren’t going to get better, and can guide me towards making myself comfortable while recognizing that it isn’t going to improve or get treated or cured in a more typical sense. I don’t want any kind of addictive medications or to be put into a stupor. I just don’t quite know how to describe what I’m looking for, but maybe if I post here a medical professional would be able to better name it for me.

What exactly is a flagged passport?? (TL-DR at bottm, rest is context)
In college I would get meds from Mexico since everything was dirt cheap and uncontrolled. Like showing up to finals fully back from a Mexico Adderall. My one rule was always "never lie about what you have. On average I would have pill bottles 5x 30qty bags. They'll look at it , confirm it's not opioids or something harder, then send me on my way. Only 1-2 times they wanted to Xray the car.
Then randomly one day the agent seeing my passport realized what was going on just like everyone reding this thread does. Told me to return it and get my money back. So the pharmacist says this is common, said he would get me something else. But really they took it to the back and put some shrink wrap on a larger bottle, dumping and sealing stash box into one (now new) factory sealed bottle for a random animal.
The moment of truth a few hours later...
​
They knew.
Basically detained (no handcuffs), while they manually searched my car. What looked like a supervisor comes over and says "Do you know what you just did?? Response was (still remember it to this day) "Fucked up the rest of my life by this decision" Then I went on that emotional tirade we all have built up when stress from things like end of year exams, relationships, etc.
Then to my absolute surprise he said "Your car is clean, in the future please come with a US prescription. Then he handed me back my bag of controlled substance pills. But that seemed way to casual to
TL-DR; 18 year old me buys Adderall and downers a few times a year in Mexico. After the pharmacies plan to repackage the pills in shrink-wrap
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Super TL-DR; I want to take a few weeks exploring around Europe in the 5-10 range future. If all their immigration systems show me as "flagged for trying to bring in scheduled drugs. Is there a way I can even check up on that? That was 10 years ago, just trying to move on

Is it time to give up?, a thought ive had since age 6. Is it time to give up and jump into the street or similar methods. im too poor to afford quality therapy and all the places ive been too near me have been wildly ineffective in treating my ASD level 2, ADHD, OCD and Medication resistant MPD. Im probably gonna end it soon, im entirely unfixable unless i become rich enough to afford real therapy. My entire life has been a terrible Cycle of emptiness, neglect and loneliness. I grew up in a extremely poverty struck home with a emotionally wrecked and distant single mother. ive been through everything from intense health issues to emotional issues and ive decided life isnt worth it anymore, im an unfixable broken toy and my circumstances are unfixable as well. when your poor and disabled in california your given an insurance called medical. its horrible and useless. your a second class citizen to doctors and hospitals. especially mental health. heres my detailed my 4 experiences that made me come to the conclusion of i wanna die soon.
My first stint of therapy was at Choc Childrens in socal, from ages 5-8 is when i started to become extremely depressed, isolated, lonely and suicidal. the gap between social and intellegence bassed development which was later to be found out caused by my autism was getting noticable. the reason i wasnt diagnosed till 3 years ago was beacuse i was racially profiled by my GP who said all my issues were because of my i tensive seizures as a kid and that because im black i couldn't have autism ot similar learning disability. i had said i wanted to commit suicide to a teacher in 2nd grade and i was forcibly made to see a childrens therapy place in my area of South socal. the place was terrible. i was treated like a second class citizen and discrimated for me being poor and a half black mix. i was never treated properly and was passed around by multiple therapist who just played stupid board games with me.i hated it. nobody really cared they just babysat me for a paycheck. this is around the age when i began to develop extreme nihilistic ideas from reading books and watching internet content. Nihilism explained my existence it gave it reason, my entire life is suffering. I have nothing and will always be poor. in my early life i had a shit ton of health issues like seizures and breathing issues. this created an even larger social and Self suffering divide. i was divided and pitied socially like a kicked dog. I was never able to be "friends" everyone thought id give them seizures since i had experiance one in 3rd grade in class due to my epilepsy and extreme stress which come to find out are autism related. My life hasnt improved at all since i was younger and has continued to snowball so 8 year old me turned out to be correct.
Elementary public School Psychologist - from ages 9-12 i kept myself closed off from others. My inability to make friends continued and i became even more depressed and nihilistic. spending hours reading philosophy books trying to figure out why im forced to suffer this terrible existence. which eventually led to buddhist ideas and to this day i've never found an answer on why my life sucks and i was cursed to suffer. in California schools your required to do mental health checks yearly and i answered truthfully on mine was forced to do multiple appointments with the school psychologist. she was terrible, just another worthless shrink that made me fill out paperwork for her and i was never actually cared for or treated. just fill out this questionnaire and ill give you SSRIS that are complete BS and dont work for you at all. my social life became even harder the older i got. i drifted so far away from my age group in terms of interests and social skills i became an outcast. The "weird fat kid". Ive continued to worsen as i age in terms of physical and mental health.
western youth services - at age 13 i was forced to go to a place called WYS after my first major suicide attempt. i was referred there since they were the closest place to me that took medical, boy was that terrible. they somehow where even worse then my previous two experiences combined. Terrible unresponsive psychologists, terrible therapists and they actively emotionally abused me. they gave me more ineffective drugs and treated me like a nuisance rather than a patient. most psychologists just gave me SSRI'S and told me to fuck off. nobody cared for me, my family didnt and neither did the shitty workers. my depression became even worse and i began to develop violent thoughs of revenge and bitterness began to develop in me. mI wanted to kill my family for neglecting me, i wanted to kill my bullies for making fun of me and i wanted to kill my psychiatrists for not listening to me. i became even more nihilistic and had began to Self harm more extremely
After that stint i was out of therapy for 2 years, i had only one attempt and my nihilism worsened. I was socially ridiculed more than ever now as i reached junior high. this when i noticed major declines and more bullying. Between stint 3 and 4 in late 2021 after a i had a hard head injury i was seen by a neuropsychologist that diagnosed me with autism,ADHD, OCD, and MDP and advised me to see a Therapist and psychiatrist. she was incredibly surprised i wasnt diagnosed with autism before. she said after talking with me for 10 minutes she knew. She was astounded nobody noticed till now. Its kinda hilarious guess racial discrimination and all that really does exist when it comes to autism in black men. Previously between 3 and 4 and the autism diagnosis i wanted to re enter therapy and was subsequently put on a 2 year waitlist between late 2019 and early 2022. In mid 2022 i began my 4th stint back at choc
choc stint 2- from age 14-16 i i was placed on a two year wait list to receive treatment after my 3rd suicide attempt in 2019. 2 years passed then COVID hit then it got extended to another couple months even though i had another attempt in the mean time. A TOTAL OF ALMOST 3 YEARS TO RECEIVE GARBAGE TREATMENT. i was treated like trash by choc again. i started back with them in mid 2022 and its been terrible. the therapist was a step up and my best to date but the Psychiatrist was terrible. Dr ngyuen fucking sucks, how can you take pride in your self as a dr when you actively miss appointments and flake on patients a bunch. Hes no showed us 8 FUCKING DIFFERENT TIMES. since ofc hes a telehealth only dr, but thats not all oh nooo he was fucking garbage at treating anything. he gave me 10 different SSRI/SNRI/SDRI combinations all to do fucking nothing since im medicine resistant and we told him that from the start. hes also completely worthless in terms of treating ADHD as its one of my biggest struggles and is actively ruining my life. his treatment plan is the exact opppsoite of what your supposed to do for ADHD. hes insistent on treating my depression first which basically means "heres a new SSRI go away" each session. hes also shown some very racist and discriminatory actions towards me. im refused adderall because i have an "addiction risk:" due to my socioeconomic status and my race. This recent stint has solidified in my mind that my only relief is death. i have no other option. this place was my last one that my insurance covered.
I bet nobody read all of this, but i just wanted to rant today. My psychiatrist flaked on our appointment today and i needed to get this out. i have no hope for my life and actively want to end it soon. lk the whole "its so over meme" but my life feels like it literally is unless i win the lottery. Im too poor to afford anyway out of my living hell and i cant work.i have no options. i have no other therapy options or ways to fix my mental or health disabilities. I just need to end it now

The change:
https://www.federalregister.gov/documents/2023/03/01/2023-04248/telemedicine-prescribing-of-controlled-substances-when-the-practitioner-and-the-patient-have-not-had
https://www.dea.gov/press-releases/2023/02/24/dea-announces-proposed-rules-permanent-telemedicine-flexibilities
It does not only apply to Adderall but that has been a major focus of reporting on the proposal.
Some articles about the change:
https://www.cbsnews.com/news/telehealth-buprenorphine-adderall-prescriptions-drug-regulations/
https://www.axios.com/2023/03/03/opioid-prescribing-rules-mental-health
https://www.wsj.com/articles/adderall-oxycontin-prescriptions-to-require-in-person-doctor-visit-under-biden-plan-dd7bd3a7

The Biden administration proposed tighter rules for the online prescription of drugs including Adderall and buprenorphine, shrinking the scope of telehealth services that expanded dramatically during the pandemic.
The Drug Enforcement Administration on Friday said the telehealth restrictions would take effect after the Covid-19 public-health emergency ends on May 11. The proposed changes affect prescriptions for drugs classified as controlled substances because of their potential for abuse.
The changes would make it harder for some patients to get drugs that some lawmakers have said doctors were prescribing too readily.
A DEA official said improper prescribing by online telehealth companies during the pandemic guided its decision to ban first-time online prescriptions for drugs such as Adderall. Two companies, Cerebral Inc. and Done Global Inc., have faced DEA investigations into their prescribing practices after The Wall Street Journal reported that some clinicians at the companies felt pressured to prescribe stimulants.

...

Under the rules, doctors could remotely prescribe a 30-day supply of some drugs, including buprenorphine—used to treat opioid-use disorder—as well as ketamine and testosterone. Further prescriptions would require at least one in-person visit. Other drugs, including Adderall, Ritalin and OxyContin, would require patients to meet in-person with prescribers first or be referred from a doctor they met in person.
“This is overly restrictive,” said Kyle Zebley, a lobbyist for the American Telemedicine Association, which represents companies that support telehealth services, including some hospitals and insurers. “This is not anywhere close to the level of access people have had during the pandemic.”
The Biden administration said patients who started receiving prescriptions for controlled substances via telehealth during the pandemic could continue to do so for 180 days after the changes take effect. The public will have 30 days to comment on the proposed rules, the DEA said, before they are completed. The agency coordinated with the Departments of Health and Human Services and Veterans Affairs to design the rules. SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS

...

The relaxation of telehealth rules spurred the growth of companies that heavily advertised on social media that they provided easier access to treatment for conditions that had required meeting a clinician at least once before the pandemic. Such companies mostly outsource care to doctors and nurse practitioners working as contractors. The DEA said last year that it was concerned aggressive marketing practices by companies including telehealth services could be driving demand for stimulants.

And some about the shortage:
https://nymag.com/intelligence2023/03/wheres-the-urgency-on-the-adderall-shortage.html
https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2023/03/14/adderall-shortage-telehealth-prescriptions/
https://www.cnbc.com/2023/02/28/op-ed-dea-and-fda-rules-exacerbate-adderall-shortage.html
https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/25/opinion/adderall-shortage-drug-policy.html
https://www.npr.org/2023/03/23/1165361416/drug-shortages-adderall-flu-medicine-report

The change:
https://www.federalregister.gov/documents/2023/03/01/2023-04248/telemedicine-prescribing-of-controlled-substances-when-the-practitioner-and-the-patient-have-not-had
https://www.dea.gov/press-releases/2023/02/24/dea-announces-proposed-rules-permanent-telemedicine-flexibilities
It does not only apply to Adderall but that has been a major focus of reporting on the proposal.
Some articles about the change:
https://www.cbsnews.com/news/telehealth-buprenorphine-adderall-prescriptions-drug-regulations/
https://www.axios.com/2023/03/03/opioid-prescribing-rules-mental-health
https://www.wsj.com/articles/adderall-oxycontin-prescriptions-to-require-in-person-doctor-visit-under-biden-plan-dd7bd3a7

The Biden administration proposed tighter rules for the online prescription of drugs including Adderall and buprenorphine, shrinking the scope of telehealth services that expanded dramatically during the pandemic.
The Drug Enforcement Administration on Friday said the telehealth restrictions would take effect after the Covid-19 public-health emergency ends on May 11. The proposed changes affect prescriptions for drugs classified as controlled substances because of their potential for abuse.
The changes would make it harder for some patients to get drugs that some lawmakers have said doctors were prescribing too readily.
A DEA official said improper prescribing by online telehealth companies during the pandemic guided its decision to ban first-time online prescriptions for drugs such as Adderall. Two companies, Cerebral Inc. and Done Global Inc., have faced DEA investigations into their prescribing practices after The Wall Street Journal reported that some clinicians at the companies felt pressured to prescribe stimulants.

...

Under the rules, doctors could remotely prescribe a 30-day supply of some drugs, including buprenorphine—used to treat opioid-use disorder—as well as ketamine and testosterone. Further prescriptions would require at least one in-person visit. Other drugs, including Adderall, Ritalin and OxyContin, would require patients to meet in-person with prescribers first or be referred from a doctor they met in person.
“This is overly restrictive,” said Kyle Zebley, a lobbyist for the American Telemedicine Association, which represents companies that support telehealth services, including some hospitals and insurers. “This is not anywhere close to the level of access people have had during the pandemic.”
The Biden administration said patients who started receiving prescriptions for controlled substances via telehealth during the pandemic could continue to do so for 180 days after the changes take effect. The public will have 30 days to comment on the proposed rules, the DEA said, before they are completed. The agency coordinated with the Departments of Health and Human Services and Veterans Affairs to design the rules. SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS

...

The relaxation of telehealth rules spurred the growth of companies that heavily advertised on social media that they provided easier access to treatment for conditions that had required meeting a clinician at least once before the pandemic. Such companies mostly outsource care to doctors and nurse practitioners working as contractors. The DEA said last year that it was concerned aggressive marketing practices by companies including telehealth services could be driving demand for stimulants.

And some about the shortage:
https://nymag.com/intelligence2023/03/wheres-the-urgency-on-the-adderall-shortage.html
https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2023/03/14/adderall-shortage-telehealth-prescriptions/
https://www.cnbc.com/2023/02/28/op-ed-dea-and-fda-rules-exacerbate-adderall-shortage.html
https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/25/opinion/adderall-shortage-drug-policy.html
https://www.npr.org/2023/03/23/1165361416/drug-shortages-adderall-flu-medicine-report

Introductory information about my case
Hi all. If you have any experiences or knowledge on how you help remedy or cured your brain fog PLEASE take the time out of your day to read this because I and everybody I have told about this are at a complete loss. This post is going to be very long because it is going to cover some of my medical background and personal experiences in order to better familiarize you all with what I am affected by.
My brain fog case varies from the normal case in the sense that this was not a gradual change, rather happened within a few seconds of time leading me to believe that this was not a product of lifestyle, diet, or other things that contribute to gradual brain fog (I will cover these later). It happened within a 3 second window of time and I can still remember the moment visibly in my head. prior to this happening there were no signs or symptoms that could suggest that this would happen suddenly, and I was in a clear state of mind at the time.
So, what happened?
I was 13 at the time and in 7th grade. It was later in the evening and I went to my routine cross country practice after school. We would realistically only run 3-5 miles dispersed over smaller intervals for about an an hour and a half to a maximum of 2 hours. Towards the end of practice, I was running back to the school (we ran out practice in a park that consisted of a baseball and soccer field across the street from our school) when I decided to try and impress my friends by jumping over a trash can that was on the edge of the baseball field. As soon as my feet left the ground and I was in the air, my perspective instantly changed. I don't know how to put the feelings into words in a way that someone who doesn't have experience with brain fog can understand, but the best analogy that I can give is that I felt like I was driving a car from the backseat. Everything got sucked back and it felt like everything became suppressed, and it was such a sudden change that I went into a state of panic. My coach called my mom because at the time I didn't have my cellphone on me, and to my knowledge she described me as being out of sorts and panicky. My mom took me to the ER under the impression that I might be suffering from a heat stroke or exhaustion from running too much. The doctors took bloodwork and an MRI certain that they would find something obviously wrong with me, but to their surprise they didn't find anything off based on the test results. Ever since that incident has happened, I have felt the exact same way with no relief whatsoever. It also has not gotten worse in terms of fogginess. I now live life with this new baseline perspective and it's been affecting me for about 6 years and 3 months.
Important things to note about the incident
Although heat stroke and exhaustion are likely still at the top of some of your lists, it is extremely unlikely that these are the causes for my fogginess. The time and day which I was running happened to be extremely cool, and I remember that I was not dehydrated by any means that day as my mom and I made it a priority that I finish a full Camelbak filled waterbottle before I ran (which I always did). Nothing that day was out of the ordinary. I had not exhibited any strange symptoms that might suggest something like this would occur beforehand and the incident could very well be described as out of the blue for my current circumstances. And yes, I get it. Just because it's cool and I drank water doesn't mean that heat stroke and exhaustion should be ruled out of the picture, but based on my diet, sleep habits, etc. They are very improbable. Not to mention doctors at the ER said that these were also extremely unlikely although they did not provide me with a cause.
Personal analysis of the incident at hand
I intentionally have done a poor job at providing all of my background and history and just talked about the moment in which this brain fog became a thing because I want the users reading this to try and draw some of their own conclusions with what has been provided and then re-evaluate them later when I give all of the details. That way it will be easier to rule things out and hopefully reach a little deeper into the issue rather then just throwing a jumble of past medical information at you and expecting you to piece it all together (although I kinda just did that lol). Personally the most rational and logical explanation that I can think of is that I am in a prolonged state of panic which is causing the brain fog and other associated symptoms. It's important to note that I have a long history of anxiety, especially growing up as a child (this will be touched on later).
Medical history
This section is going to be the longest section by far and will provide you with all of the information that you need to have in order to (hopefully) potentially point me in the right direction for finding treatment or a cure. These are all things that will be worth noting and can directly contribute to brain fog.

• Head trauma

I have had repeated head trauma in the past that although unlikely, could be the result of my brain fog. Incidents include

• falling 4-5ish feet on to my head when I was 2. I fell onto hardwood head first out of my crib. No serious damage was done and skin didn't break, which led to no concussion testing being issued.
• Large U-bracket shaped metal bar (50-60ish pounds) fell onto my head while propped up against a wall when i was 8-9. Needed 10-15 ish staples to seal the wound shut, almost blacked out. I do not recall getting concussion testing after this incident
• football head injury. I used to play flag football and when I was 11 a boy on the other team ran into my head so hard with his teeth that they got pushed all the way back up into the roof of his mouth. Side of my head was gashed and I saw stars but no testing was done after
• Rock to the face. When I was 8 my brother threw a baseball sized rock at my forehead from upstairs. It left a large knot but no testing was ever done

Its worth noting that I have never passed out as a result of these injuries, and I have had many smaller incidents that aren't worth noting (just general head trauma, like bumping your head into a wall or bedframe etc). However it could be possible that the combination of these smaller incidents could have led to something like this, or at least contributed to it. Not to mention MRI results probably would have turned up something.

• Medication

I have talked to many psychiatrists regarding the medications that I have been on in the past prior to this incident occurring hoping that the brain fog was an adverse affect of what I was taking. For a long time this was our most plausible theory but it is now less likely that this is the case.

• Melatonin - I was on a very heavy dose of liquid melatonin as a kid but I cannot remember the exact amount. These were used to treat my night terrors (touch on later) and I would take this every night starting from 5-6 years old to 10.
• Escitalopram - used to treat generalized anxiety and depression. Took it for my panic attacks starting around 10 and tapered off around 18. I believe I was on a 10mg dose for most the time but could have been on a 20mg dose at some points.
• Guanfacine - Impulse medications used to treat behavioral problems and ODD. started around the same time and tapered off around 16. Not sure of the dosage. I believe it was the 1mg tablet (orange and circular) but I can't remember the dosage amount.

My psychiatrist told me that tapering off of these medications could hopefully remedy the fogginess and I no longer take the medication. However I do not feel any different and needed to go on another antidepressant/anti anxiety medication because I found out that I was genetically resistant to escitalopram via DNA testing. (I take Pristiq now, but it is not the cause of my fogginess because I started taking it way after the incident occurred.)

• Anxiety

My family on my mothers side has a history of anxiety, specifically my grandfather. He was medicated, but I'm not sure for what exactly. All I know is that it runs in the family. I was diagnosed at a young age with something knows as Alice in Wonderland Syndrome (AWS for short) where things became distorted in my vision. Specifically peoples heads would look small and the world felt like it was shrinking in on me. I know that people who have experienced this did not have any other side affects from it, but I developed awful panic attacks and night terrors as a result. I could feel things getting small in my dreams and I would wake up screaming almost every night, not because the dream was scary but because I could feel everything getting smaller when I slept. In my opinion it feels similar in panic levels to when you get on a rollercoaster (assuming you easily get scared or motion sick like I do). There's that overwhelming sense of panic and fear and it feels like everything is closing in around you. These episodes happened almost every night for an hour or so even when I was heavily medicated on melatonin to try and make it through the whole night. To put things into perspective, my mom had to quit her job due to how little sleep both her and I were getting because of how frequent these attacks would happen. I had to have personal aids at school take me outside and do deep breathing with me in order to subdue these attacks, but luckily I grew out of it by high school. Interestingly, I can trigger this on command by imagining that I am being squished by a large force, or thinking about how small and insignificant I am in comparison to the rest of the world. I do still get the panicky feeling when I actively think about triggering it too, but I have trained myself to not put it at the front of my mind as to not have them happen anymore. When I was younger prior to this brain fog incident happening I was always very anxious and on edge and didn't ever really feel at ease. Medication did not help remedy this well either. I think that due to my extensive background regarding anxiety it is very probable that I am in a prolonged state of anxiety after the incident. I think that my fight or flight must have kicked in because I was suspended in the air and my brain was not fully aware of what I was doing, but to me it just seems like a reach.

• Nutrition

My diet was always great as a kid. We never ate junk food and I was raised a vegetarian. however this does come with some side affects as I lacked nutrition in certain areas. I was extremely deficient in Iron and B12 when I had bloodwork done, but managed to bet those levels up after the incident had occurred. I was also on a multivitamin and didn't have any other deficiencies prior to this happening. I know that low B12 levels and occasionally Iron levels can lead to something like this, but now they are well in the acceptable range and have been for a few years, so if this was the case I'd figure that I would feel better by now(?)

• Allergies

I was tested for food allergies after this incident to see if maybe something that I was eating was causing me to feel this way. They tested me for 50 things using my bloodwork and told me that I had exceptionally high levels of reactivity to a lot of things (well above what people react to on average). I think about 10-12 of the things came back as extremely reactive and another 15 or so were in the moderate range, and this is just a small sample of food that they tested me for. To my knowledge the most notable things that they said I was reactive to were chicken crab, celery, cinnamon, corn starch, Tylenol, and some other vegetables, meats and grains that I didn't really interact with on a daily basis. I went on a FODMAP diet for about 6 months in order to test if this was the cause (this was tested 3 years after the incident occurred) and I felt no change in mood or behavior.

• Sleep

This is a much more recent thing that I have looked into. I have done multiple sleep studies in the past to address anxiety and behavioral issues but more recently I have had some done to check for underlying conditions that might be affecting the way that I sleep. The most recent test that I did came back positive for mild sleep apnea (I think this is characterized by waking up 5-15 times an hour during sleep, for me I woke up out of my deep sleep state about 8 times an hour. They issued me a CPAP machine which I used consistently for about a month. However I noticed no changes in sleep quality and arguably felt worse with that thing on my face when I woke up. I also make it a priority to get at least 7 hours of sleep every night. The only thing that I could think of is that, like a lot of other people, I am on my phone right before I go to bed. This could be straining my eyes and having side effects that I would not be aware of.

• Potential undiagnosed medical condition

Migraines, Lupus, and sleep apnea all run within the family. So obviously there are a lot of conditions that could be affecting my brain yet have gone unnoticed. Despite this however the relatives that suffer from these have a hard time agreeing that they are experiencing a similar feeling to what I'm describing and it is unlikely that my fogginess is a result of this. I'm almost certain that I am on the spectrum as my parents described my behavior as a child to be borderline autistic (more receptive to noise/light, fidgety and rhythmic and somewhat gifted), but they refuse to look into this possibility. I can pick music up very easily as well as academics. My parents said that I used to sit at the front door for 4-6 hours straight at a time when I was a kid and spin objects. These ranged from toys to household items, basically anything that I could find I would sit and spin until it was time to go to bed.

• Hobbies

I have always participated in at least one sport throughout my life and humbly I would say that I am in incredibly good shape physically. I'm about 6'4 175 and I run, lift, and play basketball every day. Throughout high school I would run about 80-100 miles a week and both my heart and mind felt incredibly strong and healthy. I've never done drugs or smoked, and only drink socially on the weekends. I don't eat junk food and don't eat processed sugars either. prior to the incident happening I did basketball, football, cross country, track, tennis, and golf so I was very rarely idle. My brain was healthy and I was always the top of my class at an early age. I got 4th in the schools spelling bee and was in all of the advanced programs that they offered. I never really struggled with being mentally slow or dull until after the incident happened and I know for a fact that they wouldn't contribute to this. My screen time was also very limited before this as well so I don't believe it to be an issue with overstimulation or a "rewiring of the brain" as many people like to describe it.
Effects on me after the incident
I have struggled with severe depression and anxiety after this incident occurred. Another thing is intense fatigue and loss in interest in everyday things, however I would like to clarify that the depression im experiencing is a result of my fogginess and not the other way around. I managed to do well in school but resorted to cheating a lot because I was struggling but still wanted to do well. I currently go to a T10 for Computer Engineering and I am struggling both socially and mentally because I cannot focus or put forth any more effort due to this fogginess. My fogginess has also contributed to the resurgence of my body focused repetitive behaviors (BFRB) in which i pull my hair, pick my skin, bite my nails etc. It really has had a negative impact on my self image which I think just makes everything worse. One phenomena that I started having after this incident was intense drowsy spells during repetitive/rhythmic or boring events. Every class that I attended in high school and in college I cannot physically keep my eyes open and I just sleep in all of them. Oddly, caffeine does not have an effect on me and doesn't make me jittery or stay awake and the only thing that works is holding my breath for as long as I can in order to initiate fight or flight to wake me up. I'm struggling academically as a result of these things (hovering around a 2.9 GPA, likely to be lower after this semester) and I am transferring out of my department because of these problems. I spend roughly 30-40 hours a week on work but I feel very behind and slow because I have to learn all of these things on my own because I cannot stay awake or focus in class because of this. My psychiatrist prescribed me Ritalin and I have ADHD test results on March 6th to see if ADHD is something that could be causing this but deep down I know that even if I do get prescribed Adderall it will not work. I just really want that old clean sharp feeling back but I really don't know where to go.
How I would describe life now
I want to say this in a way that people can understand best. My perception of reality seems muffled, everything seems sucked back in and my head feels empty but heavy at the same time. I'm very forgetful now and struggle to pick up new concepts. I often forget names, dates, times etc. I forgot about a final that I had last semester for a physics course and ended up receiving a failing grade for the class as a result of it despite writing notes. I know that I am academically sharp and I know how to be disciplined and study, but it just seems like my efforts are worthless because it is near impossible to retain information as it feels like it is all slipping from me. I have also become increasingly tired as a result of this despite my very healthy lifestyle. I need to get 10+ hours to even feel somewhat rested when I used to be able to do just fine with 7.
Weird specific symptoms that could lead to something
Some weirdly specific symptoms that could help lead you guys to something is that I struggle to remember names and dates but not numbers. I also tend to have twitchy uneven face muscles after this. My eyes also feel very hard and I sweat a lot easier now for some reason. I also can fall asleep on command almost anywhere due to how tired and out of it I always feel. Caffeine and stimulants also have no affect on the way that I feel as well as alcohol. Everything seems numbed and there is never a moment where I snap out of this foggy state. All of my emotions after this felt numbed too, like I don't get that same dopamine release as I used to before it happened.
Wrapping up...
I don't want to bore you guys anymore with this because I could go on and on about this and things that are likely not important to this, but I sincerely appreciate you all for reading to the end because it shows y'all matter and care. it's really been a struggle for me to cope with this and I just feel at a loss because we've tried everything and I'm scared that I'm gonna have to live my life like this for as long as im alive and I don't want to feel this way. I really want to do well and succeed and make meaningful connections but I've just been pushing people away because I don't feel anything and don't want to burden anyone with my issues. I'm more than happy to answer any questions you guys have and really hope that you can shed some insight into what I should do next because I feel like i'm fighting a losing battle. Thanks so much everyone and I hope your problems get resolved too :))

(tldr in comments)
I don't even know where to begin. This journey has been such an emotional rollercoaster, from finding out that I was diagnosed as a child, to realizing that my brain doesn't work as it should, to being in denial, to finding the right mental health team.
​
I was using a tele-medicine service because of the urgency of my situation. I am in fear of losing my job because I cannot sustain my attention and focus. So the tele-medicine dr gave me a diagnosis and prescribed adderall. It felt so quick, and I was in denial, but at the same time I felt relieved. Everything made so much sense--this community, all the youtube videos, my experiences, our collective experiences. It all explained so much and I had never felt so seen.
​
I was holding back some thoughts with the dr but I decided to be truthful and unleashed one day. I told the dr I had mood swings and sometimes I felt slower and other days I felt quicker, essentially. Dr said "this is too complex of a situation to treat via tele-health, and for this specific platform. I don't want you to continue taking adderall because I don't want to mess with your mood as there could be a mood disorder present. You should be evaluated specifically by a psychiatrist." That dr was a primacy care physician. Fair and logical decision. Understandable.
​
It's been a ride trying to find a psych I feel comfortable with. I want to be evaluated by someone who understands adhd in depth. As many of you know, it's extremely tough to find someone you feel comfortable with, who provides truly quality care, cares for your situation, and has deep experience in ADHD and comorbid disorders. I actually want to get to the bottom of this.
​
I finally found a new psych through another online platform that is typically in-person, but they're doing tele-health still. The office is local, so I could go in if needed. But starting from the ground up is so demoralizing, while I struggle at work and wait to get fired. I know I'm good at my job, but it's impossible for me to complete my tasks. Sitting there while this new psych asks me questions about anxiety, and prescribes me cymbalta for anxiety, just doesn't seem right. I don't know that I trust their expertise in this realm. How does the psych know my racing mind isn't ADHD vs anxiety? I didn't ask why. I'm seeing them again in 2 whole weeks. This whole process takes way too long. It feels like I'm starting from the ground up, and it feels like there's already a bias towards me not having ADHD. I just feel like I know my brain, and I know that it's not right, and I know that I have anxiety but I feel like it my inattention stem from there. I am trying to remember that this is a partnership, and I should participate and be as open as I can with the psych. I am also trying to balance that with advocating for myself, because if I feel something isn't right, I should stand by that.
​
I understand that I don't have the education on this either- it very well could be anxiety, depression, or all 3. Who knows? Maybe the psych does. But I know that even amongst the mental health professionals, it's difficult to distinguish between these overlapping disorders. I am so apprehensive. I have seriously poured over hours of youtube videos listening to experts in the ADHD field who are board certified psychiatrists, and I feel SO seen every time I hear them talk. Has my psych watches these videos? Are they up to date on the literature? What is their philosophy on ADHD? I could ask all of these questions...but social anxiety I guess? Those questions feel way too direct - but if I have some knowledge and valid concerns, I really shouldn't shrink myself for anyone.
​
I guess this is just my way of venting. I am taking the cymbalta for now, and the wellbutrin, and not adderall- that made my cranky. The only thing that has worked for me that has truly been life-changing was ritalin, and that wasn't prescribed to me. I self-prescribed when i bought it in mexico OTC because I suspected I had adhd. When I tell you it was life-changing and eye-opening, it really was and it's hard to emphasize how clear-headed I felt. I really hate that I am not in that clear state right now. This is all I've known my entire life, and I'm in it right now and I am struggling, but this struggle is normal to me bc this is how I've been living forever. I feel like ritalin is the only thing that could calm my mind. But how could I just ask for that? Especially considering how I first received it?
​
Anyway, I should be working instead of typing an essay on Reddit.

Tagged as "in-law rant" but it's really a rant about my own parents.
I've been struggling with anxiety and SI since I was 12. I will be 37 this year, and it's the first time I have felt mentally strong. My parents always just told me it was my own weakness/lack of motivation/lack of discipline, and if I just tried harder, I could overcome and be successful. I am and probably will always be a disappointment to my parents -- despite stellar test scores and a full scholarship to college, I never got into an Ivy League and ended up flunking out of college at one point. I ended up becoming a stripper for a few years, which my parents don't know about, but eventually went back to college and got a BS and MS in my field. I accomplished this by making friends with someone with an Adderall script who generously shared his overage with me. I'm now a biologist, aka "didn't manage to get into med school, therefore still a failure."
Lo and behold, my son (7) was recently diagnosed with ADHD. He is a carbon copy of me. On the advice of his pediatrician, we've medicated him. The Ritalin makes a huge difference for him. I've been wrestling with feelings that my parents had failed me pretty badly by ignoring my symptoms... I told them about my SI and begged them to let me get evaluated by a psychiatrist in my early twenties, but they cancelled the appointment after I stopped being actively suicidal. "You just need to think more positively," they said. "It's all mental." Perhaps I could have been more successful in life with the proper supports, yeah?! But I'm glad my son will not have to go through what I did.
Today my son is sick, with a fever, headache, and sore throat, though he tested negative for Covid. Whatever, better safe than sorry -- told my work I was going to work from home today, and then stopped by the office to grab the stuff I needed. I took a week off last week for a mental health break after the holidays. It not an relaxing time spent sunning myself by the pool at a tropical resort, though I did take a few hours to hang out with a friend. I spent the time deep cleaning the house, catching up on laundry, decluttering, and simply enjoying my existence without two small children clinging to me like spider monkeys. I did go into the office during the holiday break -- I'm obviously willing to put in the work when needed -- but I choose to prioritize myself and my family over my job. Today the CTO sent out a brief email to the entire company (all 17 of us) that they would start tracking attendance from now on. EYE ROLL. I mentioned it to my parents today, as well as that I was working from home today.
A brief overview of the lecture I then received from my dad:
- you already had a holiday break, taking another week off was excessive. (My parents think "mental health break" is white people nonsense. They're all about the 24/7/365 struggle and grind, since that's what they did.)
- you don't spend enough time at work so they think you're slacking and setting a bad example for others (my job doesn't require me to be in the office; I do a lot of "invisible" administrative work when I'm not in the lab -- technically not my job, but nobody else does it if I don't. I am constantly taking on projects and solving small problems before they become big ones!)
- they haven't seen me in half a month, nobody thinks I'm even doing work (I've been sending and responding to emails, updating production logs, and my manager saw me in the office picking up the stuff I needed this morning)
- nobody is irreplaceable, so I shouldn't be feeling too big for my britches because I think I have job security (even if I was incompetent at the administrative/customer support/technical support/marketing part of my job -- WHICH I AM NOT -- I am also pretty damn good in the lab, and our company has been struggling to hire qualified people for the lab. They would only be shooting themselves in the foot.)
- the economy is expected to shrink this year, so if anyone needs to be fired, I will be first on the chopping block and it won't be easy to get another job (I do the job of 4+ people; please fucking fire me so I can get a job where I only need to do the job of 1 person)
- I can't quit my job if I'm feeling overworked, because it won't be easy to get another job (my dad said the same shit when I wanted to quit my last job after giving birth to my daughter. I then proceeded to spend a year at home with my baby and then promptly got this job, with both a pay and title increase, when I was ready to go back)
- being bilingual (Chinese/English) isn't a big of a selling point as I think it is, and it's not going to be what gets me a job at a bigger company. (My role at my current company originated because they needed a native English speaker with a scientific background who could work well with both the predominantly Chinese scientists and our diverse customers. Um, when I took this job, I barely even spoke Mandarin Chinese, because it's not my home dialect -- I've become fairly proficient in reading, writing AND speaking, over the past year because of the immersion environment, which I think is kind of fucking impressive.)
Two years ago when I got a similar lecture from my parents, I sank into a pit of depression and thought seriously about unaliving myself, since I was apparently so worthless and easy to replace, I should feel nothing but abject gratitude that a company would even give me a job. I'm glad that I have grown enough to see my dad's lectures as a reflection of his own ridiculous anxieties rather than my problem, but, damn, it's irritating.
And, as I told my husband -- even if my company DOES fire me, so fucking what? My ass still looks fab, I will happily go back to dancing in a strip club 3 nights a week and make the same amount of money!! I mean, shit -- this place doesn't offer me health insurance or a 401k, so why the fuck not?

TLDR - Adhd symptoms were chalked up to trauma following testing, but this explanation feels lacking. I am curious about other peoples experiences getting diagnoses and managing symptoms. Have I been imagining my non-mood-related ED this whole time?
.......
I've struggled with executive dysfunction (ED) my whole life. I finally managed to get a neuropsych eval earlier this year (im in my 30s) and the report i received today states that any ED is likely trauma-related bc my cognitive function is good.
I understand there is a lot of overlap between cptsd and neurodivergency. I myself am a therapist specializing in trauma. I wanted to ask other neurodivergent folks about their experiences because I also understand that there are serious limitations in the ways ADHD is diagnosed and treated across race, gender, sexuality, etc. and bc the results of my test confuse me. (FYI i am afab and asian). I've been trying to make sense of these results as they compare to my experiences.
I was on a waitlist for over a year before i got tested; I was working on my ED issues through other means until then. I'd asked my prescriber if I could try adderall to help with the motivation/task initiation piece of things. I'd tried antidepressants before, and while they helped manage my mood, they did little for ED. I feel like the adderall has helped - I feel like I'm able to notice the difference between mood-related vs neurodivergent-related ED more.
On adderall, I'm able to do things like wash dishes, do laundry, shop for groceries, cook meals, etc without getting 'stuck'. Task initiation and sustaining attention have historically been challenging so I felt relief that I was able to overcome that hurdle easier with stimulants. I also absolutely have issues completing tasks that do not feel rewarding. I did not notice any unnatural euphoria, and neither did the folk around me, when I first started taking the adderall.
The testing itself was conducted in an imperfect manner. Firstly, the WAIS intelligence test was issued casually by a friend of mine who was practicing for her doctorate a couple of weeks prior to my formal assessment. We did it over breakfast. I notified the official assessor of this, but he stated he wanted to use it regardless.
Secondly, all behavioural anomalies the assessor took note of during the test were chalked up to my being overwhelmed - although I do not entirely agree. At one point, my brain literally could not sustain focus through the 3hr testing period, and it made me anxious and frustrated. We had to end the testing early. The report stated that it was only an emotion regulation problem. The report also stated that my self-reported experience of distress re. ED did not match the reality of my cognitive functioning, which was largely within the average range. The inconsistency was chalked up to poor self esteem.
There were a couple of other issues with the testing process, but I'll spare you the details for the sake of brevity.
I feel dissatisfied with the findings of the testing, and that troubles me. Am I simply in denial? Have I become too attached to the identity and community of neurodivergency? Or am I right, and am I noticing that something is amiss?
The explanation of "your cognitive function is good therefore you cannot be neurodivergent" feels like I'm being told that I'm too smart to have a pre-existing condition. And that with more therapy I'll be able to skillfully manage my ED away. But I've been trying to make sense of and navigate these issues for years without success.
Now I'm feeling frustrated and confused. I'm unsure if the results of my test were skewed by human error, or if I've always been incapable of assessing my functioning accurately. Which is embarrassing, for a shrink! I also find myself thinking back to starting adderall and wondering if I understood myself completely wrong. I took adderallXR at 9.30am today, and I did the bare minimum and took a nap around 3pm because I was emotionally exhausted after getting my test results. That does not sound consistent with stimulant interactions on neurotypical brains. But then again, I'm not an expert on ADHD.
Have any of you had experiences like this? How did things work out for you, or not? I'm trying to make sense of it all, reality-checking while also validating my experiences. Any constructive feedback would be appreciated.

A month short on posts from Hillary but rich in the chaos that only Hillary and Alec can generate.
Numbers

• February = 565 posts
• March = 118 posts (remember she took a break then announced baby #7)
• April = 512 posts
• May = 433 posts
• June = 573 posts
• July = 691 posts
• August = 616 posts
• September = 97 posts
• In August Mary Lou was featured in 26% of kid pix and Rafa was featured in only 8% of kid pix; but in September the numbers were very evenly distributed, some might even say weirdly so:
  • Leo = 11 posts (we see you, Hilz)
  • FauxTwins = 8 posts
  • Baby Ilaria = 8 posts
  • Carmen = 7 posts
  • Mary Lou = 7 posts
  • Edu = 5 posts
  • Romeo = 4 posts
• In August Hillary posted 334 images of her children, but in September she posted 55. Yet, true to form, 57% of posts were of the kids.

Things Hillary Tried to Sell Us This Month
· Roushoots Photography (the only vendor to repost Hillary’s content)
· Baby Kyte pjs
· Baby Mori pjs
· Nuna stroller
· Nature Valley wafers
· Used maternity clothes originally bought at Mamalicious
· Bibs Boheme pacifier
· Post-natal yoga by Hilaria
Pre-Baby (59 posts)
· As we all know, Hillary Lynn of the Spanish town of Boston thinks that “making tight timelines would be maddening” so she kept #7’s due date nebulous with a “baby due in Fall.” So, when she announced on September 1st that she was taking a break from IG – it wasn’t clear if the baby was imminent. She was posting as usual that day: kid pix, reposts from the "fan accounts", an exchange with one of these accounts (which could be Hillary typing away to herself but let’s assume there’s a sweet lady in Spain who thinks Hilaria Baldwin is her bestie), then abruptly announced she would be on a SM break. Maybe Buzzfeed’s little gem pushed mami’s buttons? No matter, we got plenty of Baldwin Crazy® in September anyway.
· Trying to get ahead of the many Baldwin September birthdays, Violet posted a video about her son’s birthday and the camera person valiantly tried to crop Hillary’s kids out because, in true Hayward-Thomas fashion, they were trying to steal the spotlight.
· The next day, Ireland and her boyfriend arrived in the Hamptons because he would be playing a series of gigs in NY. I would love to know if they visited Alec and Hillary; none of them posted which could mean they are trying to have family time outside the limelight, but it seems unlikely with this bunch. Also, Ireland commented on Hillary’s August birthday post for Carmen, but not on any of the posts about her three siblings born in September, which seems telling and sad.
· Alec found time to attend the New York State fair, sans wife, nannies, or kids. First smart move in a long time, my dude. Just go enjoy some fried food on a stick without hearing “Aleeeeec” in faux baby rasp every five minutes.
· Alec worked hard to pick up the SM vacuum left by his wife (y’ know, the one from Spain?) by posting scintillating content like talking about his haircut, leaving the Hamptons to return to NYC, and dissing Ron Schneider’s take on the decline of SNL. Meanwhile, his September posts on his “Here’s the Thing” podcast IG account garnered less the 1,000 likes collectively. Heh.
· For all her “I’m leaving” energy, she was really gone gone for five days. During this unexpected Hillary cleanse we enjoyed new videos, theories, memes, and general pepino brilliance.
· After that short break where she was still all over SM liking away, Hillary returned to post lackluster back-to-school pictures of the four older kids. Carmen in a pose far too old for her years, wearing dark lipstick and making pouty duck lips is a bridge too far - she's nine, FFS. After that, the posts kept coming but the most she posted in a single day was 12 pix, interesante, no?
· Then we were sucked back into the matrix when Persephone aka EverydayVogue entered the narrative. So, this self-described “social media CEO/digital creator” was at Hillary's home away from home, Physique 57 in NYC, taking selfies as she apparently likes to do. So there’s Pers, clicking away and she happens to capture Mrs. Alec Baldwin in the background rubbing her belly and looking very, how you say, not at all casual and very posed. OP in this post clarified that Pers followed Hilz after the post and she had no idea H was back there. It’s like a write your own ending story, and I’m here for it.
· The very next day, Queen Elizabeth passed away and, in his haste to insert his sweaty self where it did not belong, PeePaw posted “requiscat in pace” instead of “requiescat.” I, for one, would love for Alec to keep his attempts to speak Spanish, Italian, and Latin confined to the bedroom as he woos Hillary with stacks of towels and buckets of ice.
· The same day the Queen passed away, Edu turned two, which naturally meant that Hillary posted the photo/video montage she was no doubt putting together during her few days off. It’s moments like this where I envision us tilting our heads to the side, squinting at our screens, murmuring what in the actual fuck, then coming here to discuss. So, this sweet child turned two, and the collage that his grifty mother posted included a picture of her breastfeeding him and Mary Lou simultaneously that was just really an ode to her implants. Meanwhile one of the nannies posted a beautiful image of her holding Edu looking happy and cared for. What a difference.
· The day after he tried to flex his Catholic kid muscles by dusting off the old Latin, Alec posted a picture of him making duck lips/the Baldwin smirk with a guy named Zachary who should know better than to be photographed with Alec and captioned it “King Charles the Third with bodyguard.” When this giant manbaby got flak for his tasteless post, he threw one of his famous tantrums. He deleted the image and clarified that “to you haters out there, your opinion means nothing to me.” I wonder if he kicks the cats when he’s mad.
· As Alec was yelling at haters and probably Leonela/Leonetta, Híláríaá, as Anna Roisman calls her, chose that moment to reveal three of her maternity pictures in full Norma Desmond glam from Roushoots. Folks commented about her choice of subject on Rou’s IG and she replied in a huff (fair enough, this is her probably sizable paycheck) and deleted all comments. Hillary’s word salad caption included the immortal “I Am” poem/stream of consciousness/Adderall-induced delusion of grandeur: “I am real. I am kind. I am savvy. I am fierce. I am worthy. I am strong. I am me in all of my uniqueness. I belong and I’m never alone.” I take issue with the statement “I am real” coming from a person with a plethora of fake body parts, an obsession with filters, and a whole stolen heritage and invented backstory.
· That same day, Ireland posted “I hate people” and a picture of her drunk eating potatoes with mayo (or patatas bravas, as Hillary surely squeaked at her phone in horror while stalking). I love to connect the dots on all three of these people, but I do recognize that nothing Alec or Hillary do or say is Ireland’s responsibility.
· Just when it looked like she had reined it in and was going to stick to 3-5 stories a day, Leo’s birthday arrived complete with a collage featuring 27 pictures, the first of which was, naturalmente, a perfectly coiffed Hillary holding a newborn Leo in her signature sexy hospital gown pulled off the shoulders look.
· Of all the kids, of course Leo couldn’t get a day or two devoted just to him, so this was the day Hillary showcased the new batch of sexy señora pix in a yellow nightgown in her bathtub, which had the unintentionally hilarious effect of making her look like she was emerging from an egg with a runny yolk or maybe sitting in a puddle of bright yellow urine.
· The faux twins finally got out of the deathtrap highchairs to go to “nursery school” (just obscenely expensive daycare) so they got a video on her grid, but a picture of Leo and her breasts made it into her stories, because that says, “happy birthday, lost boy” loud and clear, I guess. This was also the day that Hillary wished her hair fryer Jared a happy birthday by filtering him into an unrecognizable cyborg. Since he reposted all the many bday wishes from clients and friends, he included Hillary’s but added a sticker over his own face to hide the filter, and somewhere an angel got their wings because that was comedy gold.
· Stellar pepino u/ConsideringTheSource posted this delightful stroll down memory lane of Hillary in peak grift speaking Spanish to a reporter from Hola at Madrid Fashion week in 2014 that many of us had never seen. In this 3-minute clip, she mispronounces the word for movie (“pelúcula” instead of “película”), quickly corrects herself, utters the phrase “siempre está ahí para me” a literal translation of “he’s always there for me” that a native speaker wouldn’t use, says the word “yoga” 6 times, and uses the filler phrase “vamos a vewe’ll see” 8 times. So multi and fluent.
· Thanks to u/LayneInVain, we get a lovely “El Cameo” from Anna Roisman to commemorate 33K pepinos that coincided with the first day of Latino Heritage Month and a side-by-side comparison of Hillary eight months pregnant with Carmen and with #7.
· Another Alec/Hillary/Ireland snapshot: Alec eats tomatoes looking like an insurance salesman in his frickin loafers (no offense to insurance salespeople), talks about “de-summering the house” and how much he loves his garden and flowers and tomatoes, and ends with a breathy “hasta loo-ay-go.” Hillary posts a grid video of the not twins dancing to “El Caballito de Palo” yet again as part of their fraudulent cultura upbringing. At least Ireland looks like she’s living her best life attending the wedding of a Mexican friend complete with dancing to music in Spanish that reflects the true heritage of the happy couple.
· Hillary’s first selfie in a while had the intriguing caption “still in one piece” but her nose was a piece of her that once looked very diffront and generated lots of interesting pepino debate about what in the Michael Jackson was going on there. The next hallway selfie three days later was just as sus and featured Hillary in a cheetah print onesie and this time we didn’t know where to look: oddly angled nose? Gigantic belly resembling her pregnant with Carmen belly? Hideous onesie that you couldn’t pay most heavily pregnant women to even think of wearing?
· In a single day, the Daphne fan in me (I know) rejoiced when it was revealed that she no longer follows Hillary’s three-ring IG circus, Alec appeared to be shut out of his beloved vanity project, the Hamptons Film Festival, Blake Lively posted photos of her real pregnant belly to thwart paps from trying to get shots of her, u/MaggieKC astutely noted that the last pap shot of Hillary was on July 4th, and the Baldwins threw their pap/friend Said a bone and asked him to take and post a “candid” pic of Alec. Gotta love Said’s dry caption “my photo of Alec Baldwin in NYC in good mood.” Low-key pepino vibes from Said.
· u/BuffaNutta kindly suggested that maybe these recaps made Hillary post less, but I like to think it’s the combined brilliance of all pepinos pointing out that virtually nothing Alec and Hillary say or do makes any kind of sense or looks authentic that slowed her roll a bit. Also, a great read on a possible Hillary RHONY connection.
· Suddenly Alec rasping about how much he loved his trees made sense considering he placed his Hamptons house on the market for $29 million. Hillary’s response? A hallway selfie of her walking her cats to the vet in a stroller. Swelling? Pfft, that’s for commoners. Remember, Princesa Hilaria’s motto is “I am me in all of my uniqueness.”
· The Daily Mail is pretty useful in documenting the utter chaos these people generate. On 9/22 they published pix of the Baldwins walking in NYC apparently taken on 9/20 (two days pre-baby). Of the 6 pictures, 2 were BackGrid pix (so, celebrity-approved is my understanding) and 4 were from good ol’ Said. They are like a Renaissance tableau, telling another chapter of this insane story:
o Hillary with lips pursed in a way that compelled thousands of pepinos to grab their phones and zoom in, holding a masked Romeo by the hand and a masked Leo by the wrist in a death grip. Bless the DM commenter EmiliaRuralYorkshire who posted, “why has she got her frock tucked into her knickers?” Why indeed, friend?
o Alec wearing his mask performatively around his chin with Rafa on his shoulders about to be taken out by scaffolding. Close call.
o Two pix of Alec, Golden Romeo, and Hillary holding a mask uselessly. In the words of Master Yoda, “do or do not, there is no try.”
o Two pix of the pièce de resistance (if Alec can mangle Latin, I can try a little French): the unveiling of Hostage Nanny who looked like she was walking down the street minding her business and just got swept up by the unkempt swarm of Baldwins. She held Carmen’s hand and hopefully scrubbed her face later bc the makeup was a lot of look for a little kid. It was Romeo’s turn to be very precariously perched on PeePaw’s sloping shoulders, Hillary held on to Rafa who should sue whoever gave him that haircut. And Leo walked alone.
· On the day it turns out that the baby was actually born, Alec posted a video of Edu in his stroller, smelling a flower and then eating it. This is definitely a man who should have more babies.
· The following day he posted a picture of Carmen captioned “this just may be my favorite person in the world.” Maybe don’t name favorite kids, even in jest, dunderhead.
Baby
· On September 24th Hillary Kathryn Irene Baldwin’s birth was announced, but very much par for the course with this bunch, we are left with more questions than ever: when was this child really born? Out of whose body? Why does she have an Italian name followed by a Spanish name followed by a Greek and/or Slavic name? Why was Hilz in full glam with zero signs of, you know, actually having given birth? How much did the vernix make her gag? How is she getting anywhere near a newborn with those atrocious nails? Why couldn’t Alec muster a smile for the one picture he’s in? The list goes on.
· To date, the birth announcement has garnered 159,839 likes or 16% of Hillary’s followers which is muy triste, no? The 212 approved people who commented are .0002% of Hillary’s followers. All the fan accounts reported for duty, as did the following folks from whom the Baldwins purchase goods, services, and friendship: her dermatologist, four of her jewelers, her eyebrow fucker-upper (coined by u/-graphophobia- and I'm obsessed), Waxelene, Bengal’s Embrace, & the worst photographer in the tristate area: Roushoots. Throw in some lower-case b-list celebrities like Mario Lopez and Tori Spelling and there’s a partial list of Hillary’s coven.
Post-Baby
· The only antidote to this is Queen Anna Roisman's parody – the stuff of legend
· Three days after the baby was born (allegedly) Hillary, Alec, the three older boys, and the baby went for a stroll. If nothing else, this tells us that Hillary’s “mi cultura upbringing” skipped over the cuarentena, or the 40 days mothers and their newborn babies stay home to rest and bond. Not this mami, that baby was paraded all over town.
· The last week of September had all the things, so here’s a run-down:
o Sunday: Another walk in the great, germy outdoors with Alec, Hillary, Hostage Nanny, three older boys, and Ilaria (excuse me while I snort laugh as I type that), and entirely too many balls for the number of children involved.
o Monday: The long-awaited announcement that the New Mexico state district attorney could file charges against four people in the Rust shooting and that “one of the possible defendants is well-known movie actor Alec Baldwin.” In a wild twist, the paps got to capture Alec having a dramatic moment clocked at ten minutes of him talking on the phone, rubbing his face, and generally looking terrible. He posted “lots of changes are coming but my family keeps me alive.” If ever there was a time to stop referencing life and death, it would be as we approach the one-year anniversary of Halyna Hutchins’ killing. Alec also posts a picture of a note Rafa gave him saying “here’s my money, take it.” Somewhere Alec’s attorneys were playing rock paper scissors to see who would call him and tell him to stop posting garbage like that. Hillary saw that and was like, yes! Kids tug at the heartstrings, good thinking, and posted a pic of Carmen and Rafa watching the baby so she could shower, as if there were always not a small army of adults in that home dedicated to watching/raising her children. Also, journalist Bess Kalb is my new hero, and the fact that she has 319K Twitter followers put some pep in my step. The day after Hillary announced little Larry’s arrival, Bess Tweeted, I’ve never doubled down on anything as passionately as Hillary Lynn Hayward-Thomas has committed to the term “Baldwinito.” But congratulations on her newest, how do you say in English, baby. Grathias, Bess!
o Tuesday: the tale of two onesies. These are the most hideous outfits but Hillary is committed to this look and thinks she looks muy sexy with the zipper pulled down just so in order to reveal a glimpse of cleavage. The gray one looks droopy, dirty, and sloppy from every angle but the things it does to her crotch are really problematic. Rock star pepino u/WendyBirdie1 caught Hillary in the wild at Madman Espresso in the droopy suit and reported she is tiny and left the accent and nannies at home. She was also pushing the five-day-old baby in a stroller and lugging the enormous black backpack featured in the DM story about them emerging from the car. Kudos who the pepinos who observed she looked like a Ninja Turtle running away from home with her Ferrero Rocher gold vest stuffed in that bag. Then Hillary proved that hygiene is not one of her priorities by posting a picture that evening of her lying next to the baby in the same onesie she wore all day in the streets of NYC in search of someone to photograph her. Sucia. Over on Tik Tok, Ireland was answering questions and in response to one about Alec, she sighed and said, “I don’t know anything about my dad, he’s on his own path with a lot to worry about.” One of the things he should 100% worry about is that his nincompoop of a wife endangered his new kid by holding her like an ice pack across her chest while clutching her phone and her paper coffee cup precariously over the child. Her late-night rants posted to prove she’s up and breastfeeding included a manifesto about bullying where she indirectly compared herself to Meghan Markle. Pretty sure Meghan hasn’t scalded her kids with her Madman oat milk concoction.
o Wednesday - Shaun King follows Hillary because, of course. Queen Anna Roisman keeps delivering the goods. Alec tries for a lighthearted post featuring Mary Lou in yet another hat, Hillary posts that Edu insists on calling the elephant at the playground a “caballo”/horse, and her response was “you do you.” This small moment sums up her approach to life: if you say an elephant is a caballo, it shows you’re unique and quirky and anyone who disagrees with you is a (fat) bully. Actually, it shows you’re ignorant and entitled, Hillary, but you do you. Hillary posted her “Dear Ilaria” video with a rambling caption/letter to this sweet baby with the worst name ever which was probably provoked by the many media stories and posts here saying, in essence, way to remind people about the grift by giving the kid the Italian version of a fake Spanish name. The line “may our names always be a strong, feminist reminder” maybe would have felt more authentic if it weren’t coming from a woman whose claim to fame is marrying a rich actor, lying about her culture, and cultivating a sexualized persona. That stretches the definition of a feminist, to put it mildly, but Hillary now has connections with accounts like NerdsWithVaginas and WomensRightsNews that follow her and are approved commenters on her page, so she knows exactly what she’s doing.
o Thursday: A post of Leo holding the baby who did not look 7 days old but then again Hillary’s magic filters have no limits. In what has to be one of her cringiest reposts, Hillary features #passpaidleave with a link to a story run in Glamour magazine about maternal health and lack of paid leave. Please note that the editor of Glamour is Sam Barry, one of Hillary’s heart emoji friends, so she’s already shady. Let’s further consider that the trophy wife of a millionaire with multiple homes, nannies, housekeepers, and the best healthcare/quietest surrogates money can buy can literally teach us nothing about this issue. Absolutamente nada.
o Friday: The bounce back body makes its toxic return and the Daily Mail rewarded Hillary with the headline that must have made her smug smile all day long: “Hilaria Baldwin proves she has already lost the weight from 7th child.” Ugh. Then she forces a miserable-looking Alec to pose for a cursed hallway mirror selfie with the youngest three about to be trotted out for Said or other paps. Hillary, the man wants a Werther’s hard candy and a nap, for God’s sake. Leave him alone. This picture says it all and wraps up the month with a big grifty bow: she uses these babies in lieu of a personality. She’s wearing them like accessories and pushing them around in double strollers to stand out and to be seen, to rise above ordinary moms with a mere one baby, just as she used the Spanish persona to be the exotic Spanish yoga teacher to rise above all the other skinny white girls in NYC doing yoga ten years ago.
· Maybe to balance the laughable “birth in full glam” pictures that she posted herself, Hillary is now in a frump fest as she actively looks for paps to document her “tired mami” schtick.
· I leave you with the brilliance of Hilaria@LicensetoHil, the parody Twitter account that I love more than Hillary loves her filthy sidewalk slippers who reminds us that “it’s importante to show that sad things can still be muy sexy if you put on the right leopard print bra.” Steel yourselves for the breast-feeding pix in sexy lingerie in October coupled with references to how much she supports poor, beleaguered Alec and probably no reference to Halyna.
(ETA some links and a pepino attribution)

I was somewhat recently diagnosed and have been seeing a psychiatrist for a few months now (in the US), and I've seen consistent positive results with 10mg of XR Adderall (except for a two week period where I had COVID, but I bounced back to normal after that).
My question is: for y'all who have been medicated for a while, what does the long-term relationship between you and your subscriber look like? The psychiatric check-ins are kind of expensive, and I don't want to have to pay to do them every month if we found a stable dosage for me. Naturally changes in blood pressure, drug performance, or the like would be grounds for a follow-up, but I don't see the need for such a consistent rhythm.
Is it normal to suggest less-frequent check-ins? Can they safely prescribe longer-term or greater-quantity medication? I don't have any other chronic or long-term medical problems, so I don't know how renewing prescriptions works at all.
I'd ask my shrink directly, but I'd really like to avoid seeming like I'm trying to be shady about just getting pills without talking to a doctor, as unreasonable as that fear may be, so I figured I'd get context and expectations here first.

AGP is a term that people under the transgender umbrella tend to dislike and rail against and yet, many of us essentially know that this phenomenon exists because we have "had" it. It can be devastating to one's sense of self and can lead to psychological conflicts within, that for some, essentially take over their lives all but every second when we are alone.
This phenomenon in my opinion, is not necessarily or even related to being "gay" or androphilic. It seems to be related to some sort of observational conflict where the person can only become excited if they see themselves as being "taken" or humiliated sexually somehow almost in a third person observer sense.
Thus, the fantasies tend not to be about anyone we know and it might not even be "us" but rather an idealized version of a submissive female or tiny "bottom boy". SPH is the most famous example and most XX's are simply puzzled by this being anything but humor that they make about guys but not that XY's can "get off thinking about" someone insulting their manhood or taking it via ahem rough treatment which usually is some sort of semi-consensual violence in the fantasy. Cuckolding and caging both seem to be hot now in terms of this sort of ideation.
Why the thought of watching another XY making it with our wives would turn anyone on seems bizarre but people can look at the site statistics. It's another form of humiliation related to being powerless/without penis or any substantive penis. These stories are all over literotica and asstr.org and nifty.org.
It excuses the thinker from guilt and blame since this unknown person "did it". Many XX's have rape fantasies so they conceptually understand this; often it's when someone's religion makes intercourse impossible without marriage. Many of us are looking for an excuse for why we enjoy humiliation but many XX's even in the LGBT don't understand the fixations because women virtually never devolve into fetishistic behavior at all, not to mention to the point where it destroys their careers and familial relationships.
AGP is harrowing and it resembles for many something akin to a heroin or cocaine or Adderall addiction and T, to me, resembles Adderall in many many ways in terms of fixation and compulsion. I am ADHD so I tend to know.
Fair enough. But let's dig deeper. AGP does not in fact specify or even relate to reality for most people who are XY's past say 18 because there is seldom any potential for us to even remotely resemble such a female or hairless bottom boy in reality. Thus, it tends to overlap with loss of ego, submissiveness and idealization of the other gender. In reality however, this is painting with too broad of a brush and it is, in my opinion, about to destroy even the idea of a "transgender coalition". This is because there appears to be little or nothing connecting transgender people who live stealth or who are able to live stealth although they might be out or partially out, with those who don't take hormones to the chemical castration point or who don't get bottom surgery of some "incapacitating" sort.
Trans-Sexual used to mean across but transgender is now mostly used to mean along, as in along the spectrum but traditional transsexual females are often horrified to be linked to the idea of adult penises out where females are vulnerable. We might support puberty blockers for children but remain firmly convinced that for most XY's, transition is a losing process which can destroy one's life and any remaining self-esteem.
AGP seems to only have one cure and that's copious amounts of estrogen and that's it. Estrogen tends to end the fixative aspect and then at least, one can get one's mind clear. Unfortunately, I am becoming more and more convinced by giving HRT advice in very broad contexts to all sorts of XY's and XX's, gay, straight and other, that for whatever reason, "estrogen does not work" for many XY's and this might even include some of the puberty blocker children.
Why? Well, people might know about the theories of in utero masculinization being either too much or not enough and both states might lead to gendesex role changes, both mentally but also potentially physically. There seems to be a phenomenon where even the Y chromosome can become feminized as distilled through generations of family that have more or many more females in the family tree than normally found in the greater population of XY's.
What I am proposing is that people who pass to the point of disappearing as a former XY, might have genetic factors that enable them to pass easily and also attractively that other XY's simply lack. Nobody likes this but size might indeed be correlated with having a "feminized" Y chromosome, plus it's estrogen, and how it is processed, not T or DHT that often triggers departures from the median or norm.
So using hormones and surgery even in hopeless cases simply makes the situation worse because estrogen or zero testosterone which is incredibly hard to obtain, might remove the fetish aspect for such men but still leave them looking "other" to everyone and maybe even more so as "other" This often results in bullying or even mistreatment by people who don't realize they are biased against that sort of look. If such a transgender female spills a glass in a restaurant, then they might be asked to leave while others would just get more water from a waitress. They might be nice at first but if "we" keep coming back, it's clear that they think we are driving away business.
I try to have an open door policy to help anyone use HRT for any reason as sort of a designer drug if you will and it has huge potential but many, many of us would do better to just be "gay" or submissive secretly if possible. The high school sports/coolness rules are inverted here.
Small, petite, effeminate looking XY's as teens might indeed have wondrous results even at 60 but it's not likely to be you. Virtually everyone who posts the amazing before and after pics on Reddit transgender sites tends to share two qualities: petiteness and they either are or were, exceptionally attractive as a younger XY. If a person was not, then in my opinion, eh, all of these "treatments" and hormonal therapies make a person look worse, almost always, not more attractive.
For those of us, who are "lucky" later in life, remember, we were usually among the smallest or thinnest or shortest. Breadth tends to destroy any ability to pass for all XY's and it tends to make a person stand out like the proverbial sore thumb. Wear that wig with your beard and underarm hair sticking out and I support you but eh, nobody else will think it's a good idea, or a healthy or rational one. Some people want humiliation and I know that and many/most of us do.
If used in enough abundance, estrogen/T blockers seem to cure or at least ameliorate fixative disorders even among those who are sexually violent or pedophiles. These tendencies are not related to chromosomes; they are linked to levels and relative levels of androgens and estrogens. People can do what they want to but I am sick of seeing these "how am I doing posts?" They are manipulative because people can only say one thing or they get banned from the site. People with working mirrors know how they are doing. People for whom "HRT is working" get feedback constantly from everyone else.
How do I know? Men and women open doors for me now and many defer to me. I often get better treatment at work than XY's and even most XX's. Men whistle at me during my performances as a stand up comedian where I always dress as best I can as Audrey Hepburn. Can most XY's pass as an Audrey Hepburn type? Doubtful. Most look like Ernest Borgnine in Some Like It Hot. Beards and wigs is a terrible look as is being bald wearing a dress with noticeable stubble. I know because that was me, say three years ago. My results are both blessings but also a hell of a lot of work and pain and you have to know what is worth the money and what is not. For most/many, FFS makes them look worse to most people except for, and to, a small segment of our community. Trying to be out as transgender without being on HRT is a losing proposition virtually always unless it's done for specific partners and usually for fetish reasons.
Except for the love that most of us share for each other, we often have zero to do with one another and we simply are not in the same context in life or society. This might sound strange but go to Sissy Hypno sites and see if you think that you would be considered to be a prime bottom or submissive partner to the "men"/tops who frequent these sites. You will soon see that it pretty much harkens back to the ancient Greeks and their concept of beautiful boys who often bottomed from the top in a codependent relationship that was seen as mentoring, believe it or not by many Greeks. Such boys were fetishized more than cis-females by many. Primary focuses were that you had to be hairless below the lashes but with thick female-like scalp hair and tiny genitalia. Once you were not that anymore, you often got dumped for the next bottom boy.
XY's, if you were not a "beautiful bottom/submissive/pretty" boy, regardless of being straight or gay, then you will not be successful at this unless you shoot for the Diva look which actually to me, makes fun of the rest of us who can pass as well as those who can't, and it's disparaging to XX's in general. I hate that ethic and look but eh I support people who want that. Many divas earn excellent incomes and they are performers. I choose to do stand up and try to explicate much/most of this to non-LGBT people and they all seem to accept me fine but I might get booed off the stage in "gay" clubs.
The LBGT coalition is about to collapse because in my opinion, many of us, are abusing the notion of what's acceptable. Yes, I support ending most gender designations but it rarely is a good idea for anyone to transition to improve his/her or their looks and yet, for some of us, we come out the other end being more attractive and then disappear into stealth. Chasers say they can always spot us; eh, they can only spot us when women can spot us and if cis-females take you for XX, then you are on a different path and in essence, no, you are not transgender at all anymore, at least with one's panties on. Those of us who have to move to the women's locker room often do it because of the distraction that we cause among the leering men and boys who can't understand why a female would have "tiny, vestigial" male organs.
Most of you have never heard of that either because transgender sites lie and say that genitalia except for testicles are unaffected. Bull. It's not true and it's not true for FtM's clearly, nor for MtF's who apparently have these genetic factors that make you look female everywhere and intersex down there. No, you cannot top with a penis if you are XY while hormonally female, except maybe with viagra or by constraining the lowest point to pump blood upwards but it ain't topping. It's more an exercise to see if you can even be rigid enough to enter at all, and anally, that's not usually practicable because initially there is no "yawning" gap to try to enter. You will not want to anyway as estrogen takes away the "topping" desire and makes it feel about as silly as most XX's feel topping with a strap-on except you can actually top people with a strap-on functionally.
Topping is not "normal/usual" for people who are chemically, unabashedly, female via hormones, nor is it for most mammals with the bizarre exception of the spotted hyena which basically is role reversal heaven for other types of hyenas and this means hormonally and in terms of rank. The females with the most testosterone rule these societies. That's why hyenas are always portrayed so negatively and with that Whoopi Goldberg voice. And still the XY's are the "penetrator" but only while held into position by the female hyena. Forced intercourse by the male is impossible and the clitorises and penises are usually the same size but the spotted hyena clitoris is thicker for unknown reasons except she gives birth though the clitoris as well.
XY's for whom estrogen "works" can have outcomes similar to spotted hyenas as can FtM's. The main difference is that the XY penis so to speak, is now much less rigid than a fully developed FtM clitoris/penis. Our XY clitoris might return to normalcy after a period of time as might most XY breast tissue since it tends to max out around the size of gyno for many teen boys.
Many/most of the FtM changes are permanent or extremely difficult and costly to "undo" but to me, changes via HRT are far more authentic, if one will, than surgical ones or implants. I believe a non-binary SRS for XY's can be developed to work with hormones soon but most surgeons and doctors seem oblivious and think only FtM's start looking gender ambiguous. Many XY's after years of hormones look gender ambiguous or only gender ambiguous down there. From behind, FtM's and MtF's can look almost identical if T and E2 "work for them".
https://www.reddit.com/bigclit/
It is mind-blowing and virtually no MtF's or those who might be MtF's have any idea what I am referring to. I just look down and I see it often.
I see person after person asking how they can increase their breast size with HRT and still be able to top their partner or partners. So, no, you can't, not if you are clearly hormonally female which seems to be levels of above 300 pg/ml which virtually no XY can reach along, with registering virtually zero testosterone. Both appear to me to be necessary to stop the compulsive aspect and to shrink the genitalia.
Such sites often imply that hair regrowth is not an effect of HRT. Again, I call bull on that but you seem to have to reach extremely high levels of estradiol again with virtually zero testosterone to turn hair back on and then it takes years to regrow to a decent length and look. Wigs and nice, natural ones are necessary to be successful for 90 percent of us, perhaps. Wear that pinkish/red wig with spikes if you want and I support you but eh, few others like the look and to many, it appears to be a form of self-humiliation or punishment. Guilt over AGP can be so pervasive as to place many of us into self-punishment mode and then, if we don't get "results", it can be tragic and I cry some times reading the questions on MtF HRT.
For some, enough estrogen by itself is plenty to stop virtually all production of androgens in such XY's but many seem unable to do more than become intermediate hormonally with lowered T levels and higher E2 levels but this does not constitute for transition purposes being "chemically female" even though yes, many 50 year old XX's have that exact profile. They aren't trying to alter their basic physical structure plus XX's do lose their looks pretty much in lock step with diminishing estrogen levels, and a hormonal flip often occurs in many marriages around the age of 50 and divorces are rampant for many reasons. Endo's seem not to know much more than anyone else and often seem oblivious but you can clearly see this phenomenon on Sissy Hypno sites which tend to have great music, psychedelic visuals and bizarre chanting exercises as visions of Barbie, usually called Bambi are brought forth as the (working class) ideal of being "female".
At the same time, the gatekeepers so to speak are often trying to prevent us from doing anything irreversible or damaging psychologically so they are damned if they do and so forth.... We often criticize them with a passion on MtF sites and most of it is unfair but some times it is true.
A person with a functioning penis to me, defies for the most part, the notion of being female but this too is along a spectrum. If you resemble a pre-pubescent boy down there, then many males, and females, paradoxically might find you much more attractive but sorry, big schlongs are only sexy to a very small and select group of humans and virtually all of them are XY and also chemically male or intermediate hormonally. Means what? No, nobody in the world except for gay-oriented and submissive men, wants to see a large flaccid penis pretty much ever except perhaps as a curiosity. FtM's and genitally androgynous MtF's might be tolerated in women's spaces but FtM's tend not to swing when they walk. Keep your panties on. Always unless you are in private. You might get arrested in many states besides California and you will be stigmatized so you can never return which makes going in even once sort of creepy even for the XY.
For small, petite, formerly attractive XY's with thinnish, smallish or medium ones who always were sort of androgynous, this can work so well transformatively as to seem supernatural when supplemented by precise non-surgical treatments, but breast implants virtually never qualify. Strippers in general where I am no longer have implants so why would XY's think implants might make them look better or sexier? They virtually never do; your mirror or friends or adherence to working class concepts, is misleading you.
If HRT "works" for you, you will soon know but it's impossible to do this with any hint of a beard remaining/visible. Removing DHT-created hair might actually trigger ER receptors into action and this includes everything but scalp hair. Many of us urge again and again that people get beard removal first before any other treatments and we are routinely ignored or assured that makeup conceals the beard. No, it does not and it makes you look worse in a melting gloppy mess sort of a way by say 10 am in the summer, not to mention that it will ruin every light color top or dress that you wear that day past the dry cleaning point. Yep. Been there and done that with white collars and pretty much all white shirts. It will never come out so don't wear white.
"Transgender" makeup videos on youtube virtually always make the person look worse and more like a diva. Be a diva if you want but others do not respond well to this look and no, it might not be dangerous but it usually limits career opportunities and ability to mix with non-LGBT people. For the rest, look at the videos on youtube related to makeup styles for executive females. This usually means no eye shadow at all and only black/dark eye makeup and only natural facial makeup, and neutral lipstick, no red or purple or orange or mauve or sparkled. Save those looks for not at work or probably a costume ball would be better. If you used to look like a big strong guy and you show up with pastel makeup, eh, people will talk even though they probably won't do it to your face.
Everyone will feel sorry for you. That's what non-LGBT people do when they support us but they still always view this as a step down in rank as a human being. Don't blame them for the fact that none of them would ever want to look "like that". Even people who accept everything, still might respond poorly to your look or voice and avoid you, not to be mean but because they feel uncomfortable feeling sorry for you face to face even though they say, "you go, girl". These females wouldn't like to look like very many of us and I have been on both sides and stealth is simply the opposite effect of not being able to go stealth. Even if the cops "know", they will still be protective towards you if their senses say "XX". Otherwise, if you call the police and report hassling, then they arrest you for being disorderly in public and yes it happens often.
The sad thing is that in my opinion most of us arrested for "being disorderly" were in fact being disorderly. I relate this to the "Transgender woman arrested for peeing in Park" headline. No XX/female with the possible exception of a sex worker, ever gets arrested for peeing in public. The cops might actually stand guard for her if they see her peeing in an alley. Not us; we might go on the sex offender list in some states. Do not ever pee standing up regardless, even at home. XX's do not pee standing up even when naked; it seems silly and indiscreet to them. They don't go in cups or bottles or use funnels. Call it dignity if you want, but XX's/females do not pee standing up. Many of us don't want to pee squatting because that ignites the AGP loop more than anything. To "us", peeing squatting or sitting is just about the most humiliating thing in the world except for going through a catheter and that might trigger AGP too. AGP is a harrowing condition that people treat or view as "voluntary". The condition is not voluntary although we do have control over how it affects our lives.
I often say that, as a self-proclaimed "tranny" that "nobody can tell us anything" and it appears to be largely true so I hope I am not wasting my breath here but no females ever get arrested for peeing in public anywhere and one reason is because they always squat and cover themselves. Why do XY's only, get charged with this? It's because females actually see peeing standing up or into a bottle as shameful or undignified not to mention the aiming problem.
People who want to maintain length and girth and topping and peeing while standing, ability, best wishes but it's hard for me to view you as female although you are definitely maybe transgender but no, you do not represent me and please find another term besides transgender female because you are stigmatizing those who are mostly or partially in the closet. Our families often assume that we are those people.
I have females complain to me about these types of transgender folks and they never even realize that I am an XY. Can you do that? Can you reasonably expect to be able to do that anytime soon?
If not, then do not come out unless it is for sexual purposes and sexual purposes only. You will always be on the bottom of society and scorned and have to live in the shadows. I hate that this is true but Goddess makes the rules largely while society tries to accommodate but please let's not do things that make others in the movement uncomfortable or that reflect poorly on us.
I lost almost everything in my life because of my decision and I am almost certainly one of the most fortunate MtF's that exist. Imagine what it's like to look worse though after HRT and treatments and to spend huge sums and all of the pain and stress and then find out that only other LGBT members more or less, who look exactly like you, are the only ones not shaking their heads as to why?
Goddess bless,
Janey

Context: link here
I actually take Adderall about 2-3 times per week to avoid tolerance:

The down-regulation of dopamine D2 receptors probably relates to the long-term and intermittent administration of dopaminergic treatments rather than to disease progression. This phenomenon is reversed by the complete withdrawal of dopaminergic drugs.

Basically if you do adderall daily, your brain will shrink the number of receptors that adderall rely on to give you a dopamine "boost" thus negating the enhancement if taken long-term. Within the MOBA communites I'm a part of (Dota-2, League-of-Legends) it is argued that Adderall mostly gives you a mixed-benefit to slightly negative overall benefit because while it does increase your reaction times and actions taken per minute, it also distorts your threat-analysis awareness and makes you prone to over-reacting to EVERY stimuli and going full-ham even when the stimuli is mostly non-threatening and should probably be ignored. (Moba games, by contrast, require careful, emotionless decision making because map awareness is more important than micro-managing your hero & immediate environment)
The problem with these arguments made in the MOBA community is that nobody has ever questioned whether the presupposition is true that Adderall is entirely beneficial in the pro Halo scene and/or whether any Halo pros have even ever admitted to taking Adderall???
TL;DR: Did competitive Halo players in years back have an "Adderall problem" or is this mostly due to one or two winners of a big competition getting caught, thus giving the whole professional scene a bad reputation? 🤔

Anonymous Survey:
Hello mentally healthy readers. As always, I’m looking for your feedback! I do care what you have to say, what you think about me, and definitely your feelings if I’ve offended you snowflake, blue-haired, basement dwelling, rapidly-balding commie fucks. Please provide commentary regarding my writing. It means a lot to me, really does https://forms.gle/rKbEEkoHvvhK98mn8
‘A Vurgin’s Sacrifice: Pray for rain’
List of Characters:
Vurgin – (according to (6) survey responses above) Hollow, Pathetic, Wanna-be-Fuckboi, Virgin, Loser, Incel, Unhinged, Creative, Always Horny
Donor Transplant Center Nurse 1 – Well meaning, poor communication skills, but decent human
Donor Transplant Center Nurse 2 – Well meaning, great communication skills, follows rules/regulations
FWB Indian Fetish Tinder Girl – My fault, decent human being for offering to help me. Hope she doesn’t get deported
Facebook Donor Page Mod – meh, just a mod. Probably normal, but weird, and about as useful as u/FallFromEden.…
Facebook Donor Page Karen Nooctors – Useless, about as bright as a lightbulb, feckless, ineffective, poor communication skills, probably all excellent in bed since they are just nurses
Dude who screenshotted my aggressive rant to Gandalf The White– OG PIMP
Gandalf The White– he touched me, made food for me, and then made me cry, I’ll let you decide : /
Orthodox Jew Nephrologist – 10/10 excellent physician
FoB North Indian Nephrologist – 0/10 Bad FoB
ABCD Jatt Sikh Punjab Social Worker – Heart of gold bro, 10/10 would recommend her again. She married outside her race so SouthAsianMasculinity rates her 0 /10
Dumb Cunt of a Human Being Cardiologist – He’s the reason this story exists : ) If he did his job right the first time, you wouldn’t be reading this Sunday morning now would ya…
Prologue:
Vurgin’s mother beat him as a child. Not hard enough apparently. She beat him to memorize Tamil, Hindi, and Sanskrit prayers. OMFG oh so many of them, so annoying and boring.. One strikes him in particular.
An ancient Hindu Tamil/Sanskrit prayer:
Pray for rain
Pray for the hands that sow the grain
Don’t even know how to start this story. There’s just so many ways I can take it, so many routes I can go with it, but let me do what I do best. Not be a virgin, but be the Fucking Vurgin : )
Enjoy the read. This story is exceptionally long. If you are the u/NerdWithADHD - pop an Adderall! You’ll need it. If you are old enough to drink, make yourself a mimosa (OJ + Bubbly) or grab a cold one. There is no way to shorten the length of this tale. If you cry, grow the fuck up… Don’t be a bitch
Don’t know how long it’ll take ya to read, I’d venture 20 minutes. But harder your helmet is, the longer it’ll take ya…
A couple of you more experienced doxxers (read IE Reddit unemployed basement dwelling autists) went through my post history and tinkered around this subject. I was quite tight lipped around you. To be fair I didn’t want to talk about this aspect of my experience, uprbringing, emotion, and tRaUmA around ‘You’. That ‘You’ was hazy, unclear, undefined at that point. Figured what did I have to do with explaining altruism to brown people. People who are depressed, fat, bald, just fucking losers in every sense of the word. I’ve met soooo many of you, and most of you just suck! Like I’m not tryna be a dick either bro, you guys are absolutely useless!
Fucked up thought ran thru my head… my experiences would be fitting only for those ‘more worthy’ than you... You guys literally suck. Like all of you. My DMs are filled with dead brown people venting about basements, Lexapro, virginity, and girls… Like you all just SUCK! But….I was dead wrong tho mate. If anyone needs to hear this story it’s our sad, depressed snowflake lot in - ABCDesis, DesiTwoX, arrangedmarriage SouthAsianMasculinity
I came from a good place of blocking you out tho… My feelings were - those of you stupid enough to reach out to me via DM then :
1) Talked with a fucking accent (afraid you wouldn’t even understand me, not tryna be racist bruh)
2) You were underage (fuck do I have in common with a 19 y/o girl huh, almost 2x as old as you honey)
I just didn’t feel the need to explain myself then/there. Definitely, could say I felt self-conscious, but I was just processing emotions and didn’t know how to communicate. Well times up. I’m taking off my tampon, cleaning off the blood between my thighs, and opening wide
It’s been almost 6 months mate to the fucking day! I’m swinging better than ever before. Iron is up, creatine is flowing through my blood again, my weight is up, I’m hitting PRs every time I trip & fall, gas prices are up, pretty much everything is up, save the stock market (but hey that’s the long game)
God’s been good to me and it’s time y’all heard the epic story. Like I said last week. Da Vinci had ‘Mona Lisa’, Tolstoy had ‘Anna Karenina’, well the Vurgin has ’A Vurgin’s Sacrifice: Pray for Rain’. I was self-conscious telling people this story, but I give you blood, gore, sex every week. Let’s give you EVEN MORE! See if you can keep up and finish with (on) me : P
Story changes things a little, I’m healthy and happy these days : ) I’m not looking for anything off Reddit no more. So, the hordes of naked Reddit women throwing themselves at me, can stop now… Last warning ladies…STOP GIVING URSELVES TO ME!
Enjoy the read, hope you got to learn about me, and as always – keep swinging my little brown friends. Love ya all except the ugly, rapidly MPB balding 4 eyed cuck who’s newly added to ABCDesis Mod queue. Who’s bright idea was that?
Part 1 - Story begins at the end: The Recipient
I’m inside this woman as we speak. It’s moist, can’t see much, it’s dark in there, I’m assuming it wobbles around a lot, but the more time goes by, the closer we get together. Our veins/synapses/arteries/blood vessels are literally melding together. I’d love to be able to visualization the acceptance process somehow
How a female’s body accepts a foreign body inside her. Does it just bend over and break, does it snap to the will of the object in her, or does it have to be coaxed day in/day out with tons and tons of Rx lube (Tacro)
I’ve never met this woman mate. She’s from a foreign land. My country’s vast right? I’ve traveled quite a bit, never being content to stay still, even so never made it to her part of the country yet. Weird cuz I’m inside her right now...
To the inbred, basement dwelling readers of GayBCDs it might as well be Oz, the fuck would you know the difference living in ur shoebox in Fremont or Edison??? But to normal people tho, she could be in Maine, Florida, or Tacoma - location doesn’t matter. They say she’s pretty too, I’d sure guess so
I don’t recognize the shape of her face, still I’m inside her to this day. They say she’s a mother of 2. Never met her kiddos, they ain’t mine : P She’s happily married I’d venture a guess, no single mother type shit. I most definitely never met the husband who was a rock by her side (still is to this day)
What would he say considering I’m inside his wife 24/7? Is he freaked out? Is he nervous? Is he fucking threatened by the Vurgin? What would she say, what would her kids say, what would the husband say if they were to ever meet me irl?
If you haven’t picked up on it by now, I’m not talking about dick. I’m not physically penetrating this woman... There is no verb or adjective to describe what I’ve done for this girl. But in the most reductive fashion possible, here goes – Never met her, but donated a kidney to her… https://imgur.com/a/BPSF9E5
Part 2 – Story begins: The Tests
As you can tell, a strong strain of autism runs thru me. It’s akin to the Dunkin corporate motto which is ‘America Runs on Dunkin’. Well… this Vurgin runs on Autism. I fucking thrive off it. It’s why I get along so well with many of you fine, mild-mannered, fedora wearing freaks on Reddit
This is the type of autism that lends itself exceptionally well to standardized tests. You name the test, I’d kill it dead. ACT – 34, AP’s 9 4’s and 6 5’s, GMAT 730, MCAT 36(?)… Wouldn’t say these scores are top of the barrel, but they were always good enough for me – like a solid 96% - 98% in everything I did.
Tho, felt a tad bit like I’d always leave a bit behind on each test, right? You know the trite meme… Amma/Appa annoyingly asking me, what happened to the last 2 points on the ACT, what about the 9 AP’s that I didn’t ace, and the fuck was I doing instead of studying for the GMAT/MCAT with 70/9 whole points missing?
But these tests were nothing compared to the screening process for donating a kidney. Donating a kidney is called non-directed donation (NDD) or altruistic kidney donation (AKD). I’ll be using those terms interchangeably throughout this read. Pay attention!
Donation process involved tests in all of the following elements:
1) Health – obviously most important part of the process. Any co-morbidities, pre-existing conditions, or hereditary risks and boom you were off the donor rolls. High blood pressure, instant disqualification. Cholesterol, nope sorry. Diabetes – not a chance in hell. Biggest elements they were searching for were sensitivities surrounding ‘Creatinine’ and ‘eGFR’. These are kidney function indicators – Creatinine is a marker of muscle breakdown in blood and how active said kidney is in clearing it, eGFR is a age, race, type, related metric with the same effect but might involve volume of urine produced (OMG mentioned race – It’s a woke metric #CANCELeGFR)
2) Psych – They’ll run you through a battery of tests with a shrink. Don’t remember what but some were quantitative with the rest qualitative. The cheap organ donation programs around the country will use a psychologist and the more established organ donation programs (think Mayo, UCSF, etc..) will use an MD psychiatrist. Fun fact national shortage of shrinks. Take’s ya up to 4 months to get an appt and most aren’t taking new clients….
3) Financial – They want to know what you do for work. Employer, type of health insurance, some centers will ask to see statements (bank) to ensure you’ve the necessary funds to deal with post-surgery complications need they arise. How food, housing, misc expenses are taken care of. Basically, the health care systems are cheap and want you to be self-sufficient. Which is fair and we make them out to be boogeymen, but it’s just a CYA
4) Social – What is your support group, who’s your ‘support team’, who will assist in your healing, what are the plans for recovery, post recovery employment, health, wellbeing, etc… First time meeting a social worker, but they did what they were set out to do. Kind folk the lot of them : )
These were brutal mate. Not gonna lie one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life. Remember I donated end of Covid 2021 too. So, I was jumping through hoops, beaurocratic nightmares, lost tests, missed vials sent coast to coast, snowflake Blue-state governors shutting down entire hospital systems, poorly trained nurses, CLINICAL ERRORS…Just you wait, the story is fucking nuts
Also, I’d be remiss in saying I was feuding with my parents big time about a whole host of factors same time…
A Tamil arranged marriage psycho in the Midwest wanted me to pop kids in her and move in near her family to wed her – Amma loved this bitch. Post turning her down, Amma consequently grilling me on why I wouldn’t want to wed girl above or a similar like-minded FoB from Bangalore
And I had just joined a FAANG too, so I was getting my ass handed to me at work. On arguably the busiest team in the history of FAANG teams : )
My team was headed by this brilliant FoB manager (go fucking figure with my luck, huh) at the FAANG. Girl was a brilliant TamBram, just a year older than me, but she didn’t have an off switch and I sense a slight touch of autism machinery inside her, and just total gunner mentality. NGL she was kinda sexy, with gorgeous giant brown eyes, dark skin, and massive titties…
Which is weird since most FoBs are assembled together looking like MMs Potatohead ie ugly… Ugh… She rode our team to the death. We were fucking horses and she’d whip all of us, quite often too. Some of us enjoyed getting whipped, some not…
So, in the midst of all the standard wOeIsMe ABCD loser bullshit I was dealing with, I’m donating a kidney (or attempting to donate anyways). It’s psychotic thinking back to it. I had no help either…
Regardless of all this, my headspace was deadest on getting through the donor screen. It’s brutal mate, no getting around that fact. I think back to it and I’m like just fucking just how fucking autistic am I to have done that???
The stats on passing through the altruistic donation process (NDD) is insane. 19/20 prospective donor screens get rejected. Just think about that for a fucking second!
The last study I remember pulling was a 7% altruistic donation clearance rate. Some of you reading this aren’t brown (weird - go back to white/black subs people GTFO) hence might suck at math, so lemme help my numerically challenged, helmet-wearing readers - For every 100 donors that get screened only 7 end up successfully donating. And remember only the crazy of the crazy even want to donate…
Part 3 - A profile of Greater Souls
I want some of you sad, depressed brown fucks to hang out and lurk the transplant community for a bit. First of all – subscribe, read some of the top posts from the donors, then follow some of them (please don’t be creepy, I tried to slide into this one hottie’s DMs : (
Ignore the posts from the recipients, ton of scammers, bots, some FoB dudes from India hustling for a kidney…. But do check the non-directed donors out!
These people were (are) like Gods to me. Don’t remember where I’ve met donors IRL in the past, my memory’s drawing a blank. But these folk have stories as beautiful, complicated, poignant, challenging as mine if not better
You’ll find Israeli army vets who have survivors guilt, seeing dead Hamas in their dreams, hoping & praying an act of benevolence will assuage their guilt. Same with desert storm/Iraq vets too, quite a few of them hard muthafuckers donated too!
You’ll find adopted kiddos who’s parents gave them a second shot at a beautiful life; Pouring their heart/soul into a forgotten child that wasn’t theirs. In the process, creating a virtuous cycle of a child who wanted to carry that love forward
If I’m doxing you donors, don’t worry about it, this Indian sub ain’t can’t hold an attention span longer than 5 minutes. No sweat donor friends!
You’ll find religious fanatics too! Strict Presbyterians, Lutherans, Methodists, Catholics. Most of you brown people have never had a genuine white friend so let me explain what a strict Christian is like. These are people who don’t cuss, chew tobacco, never drank a drop of liquor, and pray multiple times a week. They believe in the promise of a heaven. They don’t know how to get there necessarily, but believe that small acts of service may, just may, lead up to this penultimate sacrifice. Beautiful people them too!
These people are my favorite btw! It’s commonly accepted to hate on the religious right in America these days. But here’s a question – you always hear about religious fanaticism right – why can’t Muslims, Hindoos, Buddhists do what these strong-willed Christians do, huh? Christians seem to have no issues with sacrifice, altruism, or goodwill. Stupid ass atheists and Hindoos sit at home drinking cup fulls of Lexapro and wondering why their life sucks. Maybe do something, you fucking lame ass losers!
Remember the 5 elements the donor centers are searching for up above. They’d brutally kick ya out the door if you didn’t meet their criteria. ‘Oh, you are unemployed’ – have a great fucking day…Been suffering from suicidal ideations/depression – best of luck honey, but you aren’t a donor. Qualms about sacrifice, worth, or God – they’ll kick you out the door
Read transplant and subscribe friends – they are pretty cool people : )
Part 4 – Stringent Rules Make Stringent Donors
Why is the donor center criteria so strict? That’s a great question you ask. All you have to do is think about the motherland that most of you crawled outta. Our country (along with the Chinese) are the world leaders in organ trafficking, non-consent related medical transplant surgeries, and medical tourism. Still think it’s a good idea to just take any donor who walks in the freaking donor…
The non-directed/altruistic programs have only been around for a couple decades or so. UNOS/NKR is still in its infancy. The studies on non-directed donations are relatively fresh. This isn’t a field that’s been around for decades in modern medicine like antibiotics or setting a bone. Walk up to a nephrologist or a transplant surgeon and you’ll have a 50% chance of understanding NDD (Non Directed Donation) criteria. Sure, they can walk you thru the steps of surgery quite admirably, but the concept is lost on them. Kinda like how an autist can solve a puzzle, but doesn’t know how to call a cab in NYC
As is so common these days, the entire NDD process is mired in a stew of paperwork and legalese. Felt like I signed more papers to donate a kidney than close on a fucking house. You sign the same memorandums (no takebacks), same legal guarantees (me no sue u), same nuanced verbiage protecting the surgeon, donor, recipient, and donor caregiver a million times to make sure the weight of the procedure is felt
It makes sense that the centers are protecting their donors, healthcare systems they operate in, physicians/nurses, and the eventual recipient, right? It’s a long, complicated drawn out process that involves multiple hospitals, a synchrony of folk working together to heal people, and geographical/cultural/societal nuances
Last thing that needs to be done is hurt a donor or a recipient unintentionally. The safeguards are a mile high and they need to be vaulted over to proceed.
But the downside of all this fake mumbo-jumbo hoop jumping is that it weeds out those that can’t meet the bar… Examples - The snowflake libtard’s who heard about the donation process and thought it’d be a great idea to save the environment... Another example - the partially healthy but kinda chubby Southern white people who drink too much sweet tea. They heard about this story on ABC News and walked in with a smile on their face to donate, but can’t lose the last 30 lbs necessary to clear BMI req’s...
And the psycho’s – some who donate because they think they are God. Some because they have the opposite of that disease where you eat nails… True story bro! Organ donations draws the creeps, weirdos, iNsAnE outta the woodwork… Well – let’s just say they don’t screen out 100% of those psycho’s ; )
The donation centers/sites do this to avoid/preempt donor related lawsuits. These donors are coming forward outta goodwill so it’d have to go terribly wrong for them to initiate a lawsuit. IIRC don’t believe neither the NKR nor UNOS lost a living donor on the operating table, hence had to pay out damages
Sure, the programs all have liability insurance, but I’m explaining to you inbred redditors that the process is extremely complicated with a million built-in safeguards in place
The craziest fact is those living donors know there is a small chance of death mate, yet they dance with the devil?!?! About a 0.1% chance of fading away on the OR floor to be precise. Yet they still FUCKING DO IT!
Imagine an army vet, ducking and diving through IEDs, shrapnel, and the perils of the Middle East to sacrifice his organ on an OR table to a random (?) he’d never met before. That’s fucking insane to me. These people are warriors in every sense of the term. If God was to be true, he’d walk the Earth in their forms. Laud them, never me
Part 5 – Reasons to Donate
What would prompt a donor to donate? I’ve profiled the backgrounds of a few, but there’s something special yet common amongst all living donors. Background convos with the donors always result in the same simple, yet profound answer - ‘I felt compelled to’
What the fuck does this even mean? Huh? Why would a donor felt compelled to donate? It makes no logical sense, but those of us who’ve donated, can’t but heed a wanting call. Like a Harpie in the Grecian myths luring gullible sailors overboard, the call draws kind/hard/hurting souls to respond. Something in the back of our heads commanding us ‘Donate, Donate, Donate’
The call is primal maybe even primordial in nature. Don’t know where it comes from. But it speaks of various religious, scripture based, morality focused, societal driven values of goodwill, kindness, benevolence, etc… A wonderfully balanced stew of all these elements mixed with a dash (just a seasoning) of the best elements of narcissism to push ‘em forward to success
These are just people, right? They don’t have to donate. I’m not necessarily saying I believe in Sins/Karma-in/Karma-out but if I did it would make the perfect sense to donate. But bro – you are taking a CHANCE on the transplant surgery. Hoping and praying the surgeons hands are swift and nimble. Hoping that he’s focused on connecting that left ureter with the right hypothalamus vein NOT what Porsche 911 he’s leasing next or the 30% alimony he’ll be shelling out to his ex-wife once divorce is finalized
Put it bluntly, non-directed donors get absolutely NOTHING out of the donation process. There is no good reason why someone of good health/good mind would donate
Let me throw some US law at you retards as well. Federal law absolutely prohibits the sale, transport, possession, or ‘quid pro quo’ like related exchanges for organ donation These donors are getting nothing. Zero. Nada. Zilch. A handshake and a smile from the cute, blonde med-surg nurse as she wheels ya out the door
The federal tax code takes better care of your primary residence capital gains than it does living organ donors. Guess there’s not a lot of us in the world (US) so fuck ‘em is their attitude. Our lot is a bit misunderstood. Add that to the ignorance, skepticism, fear, and laziness in most levers of our government and you get just a general silence with the fear of prison time for anything related to ‘organs’. Definitely a touchy subject, people get all pissy talking about kidney donation. NO ONE wants to talk about it
I think 3 states offer you a $10k tax break for donating. Let’s say the liberal shithole of California is one of those states. It’s not, but let’s play along in a thought experiment. Now imagine a $10k tax break at the highest marginal rate at 10%, so theoretically you could get $1k off your tax bill if you play your cards right; My numbers are fake, the math is wrong, and it seems idiotic to donate a kidney to save on $1k on taxes
Not saying its morally right or wrong to do so, but the net benefits to donors are non-existent, any way you slice it. Yet ~100 of us, give up E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. every year do it. Why???
Part 6 – A Vurgin’s Considerations
I’m no different than any of those other dudes/dudettes before me that wanted to donate. I was serious, meticulous, and arrogant enough to go through with it. I can’t describe it. Words don’t exist to encapsulate the feeling, emotions, rage with which I wanted to donate. To be blunt, I’m not psycho and neither are the donors. Just passionate bro. In Tamil there’s a word that’d describe it well – ** ‘Veri’ **
Similar to the few NDDs I’ve been fortunate enough to cross paths with, it was a small bug in my head that kept repeating
Voice in head - ‘Yo u wanna donate?’
Vurgin - ‘Nope’
Voice in head - ‘K’
Voice in head - Couple days later, ‘Hey buddy! How about now? Wanna donate’
Vurgin - ‘Nope’
Voice in head - ‘K’
Voice in head - “Even more days later, dude you wanna freaking donate”
Vurgin - ‘Meh’
Voice in head - “LFG! I can work with a Meh. So…. When do you wanna donate”
Like this except it’s not so much a voice as an urge. To the males on reddit, its about as equivalent as you wanting to sleep with a woman but you, just, don’t, know, how?!?! To the females on reddit, its about as equivalent as you getting drunk and wanting to get dicked down. It’s just a primal need. A want. Lust maybe? Ya just gotta do it. I can’t explain in proper English haha. Only NDDs gonna get it
I’m not going to grandstand and say, “OMFG I wanted to save some ladies life in the middle of nowhere” A donor’s reasons to donate is so complicated to understand. There’s a myriad of them.
Let’s get down to the literature. Which is nigh non-existent with regards to organ donation, but we’ll do our best weeding thru the research.
There’s this fabulous neuroscientist at Duke in North Carolina who studies this behavior. Lady’s name is Dr. Abigail Marsh. Lots of Ph.D hacks these days, but Dr. Marsh ain’t one of them. She is just wonderful! She is eloquent, well spoken, and her research is fucking groundbreaking. Lady’s written a couple books, been featured on 60 minutes, and done so much amazing work in the progress of neuroscience
Her work focuses on the neurological/psychological differences between psychopaths and non-directed donors (a little Mexican once said ‘porque no los dos’)
Not sure if the little FoB Tamil girl redditor from GayBCD’s remembers this, but when she reached out to me to incredulously ask, *‘What makes a person like YOU donate a kidney? Are you even real?’ * I yelled at her and told this bitch to first see the 60 minutes interview from Dr. Marsh. She was stupid and asked me if I was dating Dr. Marsh…. Like in all honesty, what the fuck is wrong with all you people on Reddit, huh? It makes no sense to me. She probably didn’t listen, regardless she was a FoB with an accent. It don’t matter…
To summarize Dr. Marsh’s work and save us both time (so you can get back to fapping and I can go back to writing more fake stories…) she’s localized the differences between donors, average folk, and psychopaths in a region of the brain called the ‘amygdala’. My biology degree (& MCAT score) is useless at this point, but from my undergrad I remember the amygdala being a walnut sized region (?) at the base of the skull. It helps you feel other’s pain (empathize) if you will and also synthesize certain functions regarding emotions. I have a strong feeling it’s the autism controller as well (like no joke, I’m prolly right…)
Marsh would scan large populations of soldiers & NDDs (n ~ 200) and her findings seem to indicate a larger amygdala than the general population. The studies put it at 12%. Which is insane. Take that work and apply it to the sociopaths (serial killers, child rapists, ABCDesis mods, etc…) in the world and it either shrinks or shrivels to that same extent
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Wow. I feel.. great. Despite a hell of a night. I am hungover, but the hangover is from life. Yuck. Can’t believe I just thought that. Sounds like something a Tony Robbins, TedX talk douche would say. But it does beat what I used to wake up to.
“Like what you’ve done with the place.” Just sitting down to my computer, I jumped at the sound of an unknown intruder to my home. Worst part was my freshly brewed coffee painted the newly hung painting produced by myself. I calmly sat down, not facing the direction of where her voice came from. “Could you sound anymore like an ‘80’s cheese villain?” I asked. Wait.. who is in my home, and what happened last night?
Last night.. approximately 9 hours ago..
Ok.. let’s submit this final project. First slide needs my name, class name, instructor name, and due date. Easy, peazy. Shane Wilson. PSY 300/Mind Control or Freedom? Professor: Modus Mused. Due date: 06/16/22
This is my second go-around at college. My freshman year was way back in 2002. My official major was Sociology with a minor in Psychology. But what I really majored in was partying, as every shithead college dropout says.
That failure to finish my degree has always stayed with me. I have a great family and a moderately successful career. One that didn’t require a Bachelor of Arts degree. I could never shake that piece of paper out of my head though and finally sacked up to finish what I started more than 20 years ago.
I’m cruising now. Nailed this assignment, hit all the requirements, double checked all my sources. Shut laptop. You know what? I should go out. Celebrate for once. I don’t need to drink to have fun, I’m an adult. Maybe a sit down at the corner sports bar. Grab some wings, see if a buddy wants to check out the ballgame. Where’s my cell?
“Hey man, you want to grab a bite real quick? I finished one of my assignments early and kind of feel good you know? Like I should get out for once.. No, they’re out of town. . Nah man, just for a few. The Wildcats are playing aren’t they? Hah! I knew that would get you to come out. Ok brother I’ll see you soon.
I got there first of course, I’m always the first. If you’re not early you’re late is one of the phrases I live by. As I flick my used cancer stick into the gutter, I see my friend rounding the corner. Hasn’t changed in 20 years. Jeans, white tucked-in shirt, and one of the shoe sponsors of dads everywhere: Nike Monarchs. We are the same age, late 30’s, but I would never be caught dead in those shoes.
“Dave, nice to see you man.” He replies the same and we give a bro-hug embrace. We had a great time. He limited himself to just a couple tall beers. He must have slowed down too over the years, not putting the brakes all the way on like me but getting there. Reminiscing about old times, destroying some wings, and watching the cats pull out an impressive win, was cathartic for me. He doesn’t know this, but I’ve always been jealous of my former roommate. After he completed his undergrad degree, he went on to finish his doctorate and now works in the fast-paced intense world of being an ER Doctor. I said before that I have attained my own level of success, but not as impressive as Dave’s. We said our goodbyes and I took the 10-minute walk home while he took a lyft home. I could have absolutely had a drink or two and not worry about driving, but I want to maintain my sobriety.
I didn’t have one drop of alcohol before I attended a college course. I never had one intention of drinking; it just did not appeal to me. I won’t blame it on peer pressure either when I got to higher learning. It just happened. I remember the first time I drank like it was yesterday. My buddy Dave, who I just met with, took me to my first “house party.” He was already a veteran drinker and made sure he brought us our own drink. A gallon, or “handle,” of Admiral Nelsons accompanied by our own plastic red solo cups. I know now that you are required to pay for a cup at most college parties. Dave had that covered. The first taste made my lips numb. What followed was almost two decades of alcohol-dependence. Better late than never, right?
Back to the present, approximately 9 hours later.
What a great night. Best part of nights like these as a recovering alcoholic is the lack of the head-splitting, sick-stomach feel of the morning. Gotta text Dave and tell him thanks for coming out, and glad he took a lyft home, even after only having a couple beers.
“Like what you’ve done with the place,” she said calmly. After spilling my coffee all over, I responded. “What are y- wait.. what is this? Did this happen already?
“That’s not exactly what happened, did it Shane?” I turned to face my intruder for the first time. She was more off-putting than I imagined. Pale white skin, long dark hair, and wearing a burgundy.. school girl outfit?
“Mind telling me what you’re doing in my home?” I said, slowly edging to the kitchen counter, thinking it might be conducive to grab a weapon. The real firepower is upstairs. No chance I’d get to that right now. She also had a faint trail of what looks like blood dried on one side of her puffy red lips. I’m not even going to acknowledge what that might be.
“Relax, Shane. I’m not here to hurt you. That little kitchen knife you plan on going for won’t help you either way.” “I’m honestly hurt you don’t remember me from last night.”
I.. I don’t. Oh no, this is just like college all over again. But this time I know I didn’t have any liquid destruction making bad decisions for me. “Ok, before I call the cops, I’m going to need you to leave. I’m not looking to get hurt, just.. leave.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. Her teeth revealed, the most perfect row of snow-white teeth Shane had ever seen. She notices he has focused on the side of her mouth and conspicuously wipes the dried.. whatever.. from it.
“Sit down stud. I’m not going to leave, and you’re not going to make me.” Shane does as he’s told, not knowing entirely why. “Think Shane. Didn’t you and your friend have a guest join you after your “Wildcats,” won?”
Shane, confused, looked at the ground, running his hands through his jet black hair. “I really don’t know what you mean.” But he was starting to remember. It was hazy, like the old days used to be. “That’s right Shane. Your friend invited me over. You thought it was a bad idea but accepted it. Can’t hurt to have a pretty girl join you for some harmless night out, right?”
I don’t know when she could have joined us, but I am starting to remember. She was pretty, in a Elvira type of way. After a huge play from the ‘Cats cemented the win, Dave nudged me. Nodding over to the raven-haired patron sitting at the bar. I made eye contact, instantly getting locked into the tracker beam emanating from her honey-brown eyes. “I’m going to invite her over bro!” Before I could say no, she was sitting at our table. But that couldn’t have happened, I must have some kind of false memory of that.
Ok. I’m going to call the Police.
“WAIT.”
As quickly as I put my phone to my face, it was flown across the room. My first fleeting thought was that I hoped it wasn’t broken. Obviously not that important in hindsight. The feeling of strangulation was taking center stage, and quick. I watched her as she watched me. My vision was shrinking. Due to the violent choking, I’d surmise. Clearly, she wanted to have my undivided attention.
“Shh. I won’t hurt you, Shane. I told you that didn’t I. But you’re not allowed to talk to anyone right now. I need you to focus. Do you remember me now?”
Y-y-yesh. I choked out, quite literally. I felt like the back of my head might touch my back. I was weightless. My feet were not anchored to the floor. Have you ever spontaneously floated off of the ground? Well, it’s quite a new feeling. When she was satisfied with my suffering I dropped to the ground, hard. The fall didn’t hurt. I was so relieved to be breathing again I didn’t care about much else.
“Good, she said.” “Do you remember my name?”,
Damn. Please remember.
“Of course I do.. uumm..”
She rolled her eyes, bringing with her a change in the atmosphere. The temperature felt like it rose 50 degrees. My body started to tighten again. My arms stuck to my side like I had magically acquired a Houdini straight jacket. Oxygen cutting off.. I didn’t like where this was going. Hold on.. temperature.. rose..
“ROSE!” I shouted, embarrassed at the cracking of my voice like my balls just dropped for the first time. Hello boys.
Slamming to the ground again, I gasped for air like I had been underwater forever. I was pulling my collar off my neck like that would allow more oxygen to flow into my lungs. Laughter from Rose.
“Good. Gooood. You starting to remember now, my sweet Shane?”
I was. I don’t know how, but I was. In the middle of my rare night out with Dave, a lady had joined our table. I somehow blocked all that out. I can see her talking with Dave, but the conversation was muted, at least to me. I remember her ordering drinks. I reluctantly took a sip. Not entirely dissatisfied, but not wanting to finish it.
“I wouldn’t drink, Rose. I haven’t drank in.. in.. some time.” I can’t remember how long it’s been. I fished for my sobriety chips. I can only make out the shapes and colors, I can’t read what they say.
“Here, I see the blue coin with a giant “X” on it, I know it’s at least been 10 years,” I choked out, tossing the chip to her feet. It’s been longer but you’ve got me so flustered, I can’t find my other ones. She let out a slow, ascending laugh.
“You like to live in your own world don’t you Shane?” It is true you haven’t broken your pledge. I didn’t give you anything that would break your sobriety. Still feels strange though, does it not?”
Getting to my knees, I’m now more confused than when she first arrived. Anger started to power through the fear and doubt. I stood up, straightened myself up, and sat down at my desk. I stared at Rose, trying to gain an understanding of what or who she was. What was she after?
“Are you here to kill me Rose? Are you here as a ghost of Christmas past or some shit?” What do you want with me?” That last part came out more pathetic than I meant. Clearly Rose was here to end me, for whatever reason. I thought of calling my wife. Calling my kids. Calling my parents, saying my final goodbyes.
Like she was guesting in the hotel in my mind, she put her right hand up, palm facing me. The gesture had a meaning of “Shut up, you’re not on the right track. Stop.” My mouth closed involuntarily.
Rose, who was seemingly levitating, grounded herself gracefully. She looked at me like I was a toy. She was the big cat here playing with her food. She stood for a moment, then slowly moved down to an Asian squat position. We were almost eye level now, feet away. In one of the most terrifying moments of my life, she sickeningly shimmied her way toward me. She never broke that squatting position. A crab walk from the world of nightmares.
Now face to face, nose to nose, she spoke. She spoke so softly I could barely hear her, even though she was centimeters away from me. “It’s not about you.. Shane.. yes, you stopped drinking.. congratulations..” she said, sarcastically.
My skin felt like it was icing over. Her hand reached out to caress my face. I tried to resist but couldn’t. The disturbing part was that I saw both her right and left hands gingerly placed on my right and left knee, respectively. “What are you?” is the last thing I could muster before her maw unhinged, both jaws opening wide to devour my face and soul.
Two Weeks Later.
My custom “Sonic the Hedgehog,” “green hill zone theme song,” blasts full volume at 7 AM. Almost knocked my fat ass off the couch and onto a pizza box half full of Little Caesars pepperoni pizza inside. I’d hate to waste half of that deliciously tasting cardboard pizza.
Final grades are in. I nervously logged in to my college’s student portal. A 40-year-old man, seeing if he passed a class that 20-year-olds conquer while hopped up on Adderall and kombucha. B+. A sigh of relief. A feeling of dread overtook me, dismissing the relief. I looked behind me.. nothing. Ok, get a hold of yourself. Manage your stress.
“You’ll never manage me.” A sultry voice whispered into my ear, punctuating it with a wet, heavy-breathed lick on my right ear.
Wincing, disgusted, I did fall into the Caesar pizza box, melding into the dough, cheese, and pepperoni. Embarrassing.
Rising to my feet, my pathetic card table that served as my breakfast, lunch, and dinner hub had one solitary item prominently displayed. A red.. red rose. . .

Wow. I feel.. great. Despite a hell of a night. I am hungover, but the hangover is from life. Yuck. Can’t believe I just thought that. Sounds like something a Tony Robbins, TedX talk douche would say. But it does beat what I used to wake up to.
“Like what you’ve done with the place.” Just sitting down to my computer, I jumped at the sound of an unknown intruder to my home. Worst part was my freshly brewed coffee painted the newly hung painting produced by myself. I calmly sat down, not facing the direction of where her voice came from. “Could you sound anymore like an ‘80’s cheese villain?” I asked. Wait.. who is in my home, and what happened last night?
Last night.. approximately 9 hours ago..
Ok.. let’s submit this final project. First slide needs my name, class name, instructor name, and due date. Easy, peazy. Shane Wilson. PSY 300/Mind Control or Freedom? Professor: Modus Mused. Due date: 06/16/22
This is my second go-around at college. My freshman year was way back in 2002. My official major was Sociology with a minor in Psychology. But what I really majored in was partying, as every shithead college dropout says.
That failure to finish my degree has always stayed with me. I have a great family and a moderately successful career. One that didn’t require a Bachelor of Arts degree. I could never shake that piece of paper out of my head though and finally sacked up to finish what I started more than 20 years ago.
I’m cruising now. Nailed this assignment, hit all the requirements, double checked all my sources. Shut laptop. You know what? I should go out. Celebrate for once. I don’t need to drink to have fun, I’m an adult. Maybe a sit down at the corner sports bar. Grab some wings, see if a buddy wants to check out the ballgame. Where’s my cell?
“Hey man, you want to grab a bite real quick? I finished one of my assignments early and kind of feel good you know? Like I should get out for once.. No, they’re out of town. . Nah man, just for a few. The Wildcats are playing aren’t they? Hah! I knew that would get you to come out. Ok brother I’ll see you soon.
I got there first of course, I’m always the first. If you’re not early you’re late is one of the phrases I live by. As I flick my used cancer stick into the gutter, I see my friend rounding the corner. Hasn’t changed in 20 years. Jeans, white tucked-in shirt, and one of the shoe sponsors of dads everywhere: Nike Monarchs. We are the same age, late 30’s, but I would never be caught dead in those shoes.
“Dave, nice to see you man.” He replies the same and we give a bro-hug embrace. We had a great time. He limited himself to just a couple tall beers. He must have slowed down too over the years, not putting the brakes all the way on like me but getting there. Reminiscing about old times, destroying some wings, and watching the cats pull out an impressive win, was cathartic for me. He doesn’t know this, but I’ve always been jealous of my former roommate. After he completed his undergrad degree, he went on to finish his doctorate and now works in the fast-paced intense world of being an ER Doctor. I said before that I have attained my own level of success, but not as impressive as Dave’s. We said our goodbyes and I took the 10-minute walk home while he took a lyft home. I could have absolutely had a drink or two and not worry about driving, but I want to maintain my sobriety.
I didn’t have one drop of alcohol before I attended a college course. I never had one intention of drinking; it just did not appeal to me. I won’t blame it on peer pressure either when I got to higher learning. It just happened. I remember the first time I drank like it was yesterday. My buddy Dave, who I just met with, took me to my first “house party.” He was already a veteran drinker and made sure he brought us our own drink. A gallon, or “handle,” of Admiral Nelsons accompanied by our own plastic red solo cups. I know now that you are required to pay for a cup at most college parties. Dave had that covered. The first taste made my lips numb. What followed was almost two decades of alcohol-dependance. Better late than never, right?
Back to the present, approximately 9 hours later.
What a great night. Best part of nights like these as a recovering alcoholic is the lack of the head-splitting, sick-stomach feel of the morning. Gotta text Dave and tell him thanks for coming out, and glad he took a lyft home, even after only having a couple beers.
“Like what you’ve done with the place,” she said calmly. After spilling my coffee all over, I responded. “What are y- wait.. what is this? Did this happen already?
“That’s not exactly what happened, did it Shane?” I turned to face my intruder for the first time. She was more off-putting than I imagined. Pale white skin, long dark hair, and wearing a burgundy.. school girl outfit?
“Mind telling me what you’re doing in my home?” I said, slowly edging to the kitchen counter, thinking it might be conducive to grab a weapon. The real firepower is upstairs. No chance I’d get to that right now. She also had a faint trail of what looks like blood dried on one side of her puffy red lips. I’m not even going to acknowledge what that might be.
“Relax, Shane. I’m not here to hurt you. That little kitchen knife you plan on going for won’t help you either way.” “I’m honestly hurt you don’t remember me from last night.”
I.. I don’t. Oh no, this is just like college all over again. But this time I know I didn’t have any liquid destruction making bad decisions for me. “Ok, before I call the cops, I’m going to need you to leave. I’m not looking to get hurt, just.. leave.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. Her teeth revealed, the most perfect row of snow-white teeth Shane had ever seen. She notices he has focused on the side of her mouth and conspicuously wipes the dried.. whatever.. from it.
“Sit down stud. I’m not going to leave, and you’re not going to make me.” Shane does as he’s told, not knowing entirely why. “Think Shane. Didn’t you and your friend have a guest join you after your “Wildcats,” won?”
Shane, confused, looked at the ground, running his hands through his jet black hair. “I really don’t know what you mean.” But he was starting to remember. It was hazy, like the old days used to be. “That’s right Shane. Your friend invited me over. You thought it was a bad idea but accepted it. Can’t hurt to have a pretty girl join you for some harmless night out, right?”
I don’t know when she could have joined us, but I am starting to remember. She was pretty, in a Elvira type of way. After a huge play from the ‘Cats cemented the win, Dave nudged me. Nodding over to the raven-haired patron sitting at the bar. I made eye contact, instantly getting locked into the tracker beam emanating from her honey-brown eyes. “I’m going to invite her over bro!” Before I could say no, she was sitting at our table. But that couldn’t have happened, I must have some kind of false memory of that.
Ok. I’m going to call the Police.
“WAIT.”
As quickly as I put my phone to my face, it was flown across the room. My first fleeting thought was that I hoped it wasn’t broken. Obviously not that important in hindsight. The feeling of strangulation was taking center stage, and quick. I watched her as she watched me. My vision was shrinking. Due to the violent choking, I’d surmise. Clearly, she wanted to have my undivided attention.
“Shh. I won’t hurt you, Shane. I told you that didn’t I. But you’re not allowed to talk to anyone right now. I need you to focus. Do you remember me now?”
Y-y-yesh. I choked out, quite literally. I felt like the back of my head might touch my back. I was weightless. My feet were not anchored to the floor. Have you ever spontaneously floated off of the ground? Well, it’s quite a new feeling. When she was satisfied with my suffering I dropped to the ground, hard. The fall didn’t hurt. I was so relieved to be breathing again I didn’t care about much else.
“Good, she said.” “Do you remember my name?”,
Fuck. Please remember.
“Of course I do.. uumm..”
She rolled her eyes, bringing with her a change in the atmosphere. The temperature felt like it rose 50 degrees. My body started to tighten again. My arms stuck to my side like I had magically acquired a Houdini straight jacket. Oxygen cutting off.. I didn’t like where this was going. Hold on.. temperature.. rose..
“ROSE!” I shouted, embarrassed at the cracking of my voice like my balls just dropped for the first time. Hello boys.
Slamming to the ground again, I gasped for air like I had been underwater forever. I was pulling my collar off my neck like that would allow more oxygen to flow into my lungs. Laughter from Rose.
“Good. Gooood. You starting to remember now, my sweet Shane?”
I was. I don’t know how, but I was. In the middle of my rare night out with Dave, a lady had joined our table. I somehow blocked all that out. I can see her talking with Dave, but the conversation was muted, at least to me. I remember her ordering drinks. I reluctantly took a sip. Not entirely dissatisfied, but not wanting to finish it.
“I wouldn’t drink, Rose. I haven’t drank in.. in.. some time.” I can’t remember how long it’s been. I fished for my sobriety chips. I can only make out the shapes and colors, I can’t read what they say.
“Here, I see the blue coin with a giant “X” on it, I know it’s at least been 10 years,” I choked out, tossing the chip to her feet. It’s been longer but you’ve got me so fucked, I can’t find my other ones. She let out a slow, ascending laugh.
“You like to live in your own world don’t you Shane?” It is true you haven’t broken your pledge. I didn’t give you anything that would break your sobriety. Still feels strange though, does it not?”
Getting to my knees, I’m now more confused than when she first arrived. Anger started to power through the fear and doubt. I stood up, straightened myself up, and sat down at my desk. I stared at Rose, trying to gain an understanding of what or who she was. What was she after?
“Are you here to kill me Rose? Are you here as a ghost of Christmas past or some shit?” What do you want with me?” That last part came out more pathetic than I meant. Clearly Rose was here to end me, for whatever reason. I thought of calling my wife. Calling my kids. Calling my parents, saying my final goodbyes.
Like she was guesting in the hotel in my mind, she put her right hand up, palm facing me. The gesture had a meaning of “Shut up, you’re not on the right track. Stop.” My mouth closed involuntarily.
Rose, who was seemingly levitating, grounded herself gracefully. She looked at me like I was a toy. She was the big cat here playing with her food. She stood for a moment, then slowly moved down to an Asian squat position. We were almost eye level now, feet away. In one of the most terrifying moments of my life, she sickeningly shimmied her way toward me. She never broke that squatting position. A crab walk from the world of nightmares.
Now face to face, nose to nose, she spoke. She spoke so softly I could barely hear her, even though she was centimeters away from me. “It’s not about you.. Shane.. yes, you stopped drinking.. congratulations..” she said, sarcastically.
My skin felt like it was icing over. Her hand reached out to caress my face. I tried to resist but couldn’t. The disturbing part was that I saw both her right and left hands gingerly placed on my right and left knee, respectively. “What are you?” is the last thing I could muster before her maw unhinged, both jaws opening wide to devour my face and soul.
Two Weeks Later.
My custom “Sonic the Hedgehog,” “green hill zone theme song,” blasts full volume at 7 AM. Almost knocked my fat ass off the couch and onto a pizza box half full of Little Caesars pepperoni pizza inside. I’d hate to waste half of that deliciously tasting cardboard pizza.
Final grades are in. I nervously logged in to my college’s student portal. A 40-year-old man, seeing if he passed a class that 20-year-olds conquer while hopped up on Adderall and kombucha. B+. A sigh of relief. A feeling of dread overtook me, dismissing the relief. I looked behind me.. nothing. Ok, get a hold of yourself. Manage your stress.
“You’ll never manage me.” A sultry voice whispered into my ear, punctuating it with a wet, heavy-breathed lick on my right ear.
Wincing, disgusted, I did fall into the Caesar pizza box, melding into the dough, cheese, and pepperoni. Embarrassing.
Rising to my feet, my pathetic card table that served as my breakfast, lunch, and dinner hub had one solitary item prominently displayed. A red.. red rose. . .

Wow. I feel.. great. Despite a hell of a night. I am hungover, but the hangover is from life. Yuck. Can’t believe I just thought that. Sounds like something a Tony Robbins, TedX talk douche would say. But it does beat what I used to wake up to.
“Like what you’ve done with the place.” Just sitting down to my computer, I jumped at the sound of an unknown intruder to my home. Worst part was my freshly brewed coffee painted the newly hung painting produced by myself. I calmly sat down, not facing the direction of where her voice came from. “Could you sound anymore like an ‘80’s cheese villain?” I asked. Wait.. who is in my home, and what happened last night?
Last night.. approximately 9 hours ago..
Ok.. let’s submit this final project. First slide needs my name, class name, instructor name, and due date. Easy, peazy. Shane Wilson. PSY 300/Mind Control or Freedom? Professor: Modus Mused. Due date: 06/16/22
This is my second go-around at college. My freshman year was way back in 2002. My official major was Sociology with a minor in Psychology. But what I really majored in was partying, as every shithead college dropout says.
That failure to finish my degree has always stayed with me. I have a great family and a moderately successful career. One that didn’t require a Bachelor of Arts degree. I could never shake that piece of paper out of my head though and finally sacked up to finish what I started more than 20 years ago.
I’m cruising now. Nailed this assignment, hit all the requirements, double checked all my sources. Shut laptop. You know what? I should go out. Celebrate for once. I don’t need to drink to have fun, I’m an adult. Maybe a sit down at the corner sports bar. Grab some wings, see if a buddy wants to check out the ballgame. Where’s my cell?
“Hey man, you want to grab a bite real quick? I finished one of my assignments early and kind of feel good you know? Like I should get out for once.. No, they’re out of town. . Nah man, just for a few. The Wildcats are playing aren’t they? Hah! I knew that would get you to come out. Ok brother I’ll see you soon.
I got there first of course, I’m always the first. If you’re not early you’re late is one of the phrases I live by. As I flick my used cancer stick into the gutter, I see my friend rounding the corner. Hasn’t changed in 20 years. Jeans, white tucked-in shirt, and one of the shoe sponsors of dads everywhere: Nike Monarchs. We are the same age, late 30’s, but I would never be caught dead in those shoes.
“Dave, nice to see you man.” He replies the same and we give a bro-hug embrace. We had a great time. He limited himself to just a couple tall beers. He must have slowed down too over the years, not putting the brakes all the way on like me but getting there. Reminiscing about old times, destroying some wings, and watching the cats pull out an impressive win, was cathartic for me. He doesn’t know this, but I’ve always been jealous of my former roommate. After he completed his undergrad degree, he went on to finish his doctorate and now works in the fast-paced intense world of being an ER Doctor. I said before that I have attained my own level of success, but not as impressive as Dave’s. We said our goodbyes and I took the 10-minute walk home while he took a lyft home. I could have absolutely had a drink or two and not worry about driving, but I want to maintain my sobriety.
I didn’t have one drop of alcohol before I attended a college course. I never had one intention of drinking; it just did not appeal to me. I won’t blame it on peer pressure either when I got to higher learning. It just happened. I remember the first time I drank like it was yesterday. My buddy Dave, who I just met with, took me to my first “house party.” He was already a veteran drinker and made sure he brought us our own drink. A gallon, or “handle,” of Admiral Nelsons accompanied by our own plastic red solo cups. I know now that you are required to pay for a cup at most college parties. Dave had that covered. The first taste made my lips numb. What followed was almost two decades of alcohol-dependance. Better late than never, right?
Back to the present, approximately 9 hours later.
What a great night. Best part of nights like these as a recovering alcoholic is the lack of the head-splitting, sick-stomach feel of the morning. Gotta text Dave and tell him thanks for coming out, and glad he took a lyft home, even after only having a couple beers.
“Like what you’ve done with the place,” she said calmly. After spilling my coffee all over, I responded. “What are y- wait.. what is this? Did this happen already?
“That’s not exactly what happened, did it Shane?” I turned to face my intruder for the first time. She was more off-putting than I imagined. Pale white skin, long dark hair, and wearing a burgundy.. school girl outfit?
“Mind telling me what you’re doing in my home?” I said, slowly edging to the kitchen counter, thinking it might be conducive to grab a weapon. The real firepower is upstairs. No chance I’d get to that right now. She also had a faint trail of what looks like blood dried on one side of her puffy red lips. I’m not even going to acknowledge what that might be.
“Relax, Shane. I’m not here to hurt you. That little kitchen knife you plan on going for won’t help you either way.” “I’m honestly hurt you don’t remember me from last night.”
I.. I don’t. Oh no, this is just like college all over again. But this time I know I didn’t have any liquid destruction making bad decisions for me. “Ok, before I call the cops, I’m going to need you to leave. I’m not looking to get hurt, just.. leave.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. Her teeth revealed, the most perfect row of snow-white teeth Shane had ever seen. She notices he has focused on the side of her mouth and conspicuously wipes the dried.. whatever.. from it.
“Sit down stud. I’m not going to leave, and you’re not going to make me.” Shane does as he’s told, not knowing entirely why. “Think Shane. Didn’t you and your friend have a guest join you after your “Wildcats,” won?”
Shane, confused, looked at the ground, running his hands through his jet black hair. “I really don’t know what you mean.” But he was starting to remember. It was hazy, like the old days used to be. “That’s right Shane. Your friend invited me over. You thought it was a bad idea but accepted it. Can’t hurt to have a pretty girl join you for some harmless night out, right?”
I don’t know when she could have joined us, but I am starting to remember. She was pretty, in a Elvira type of way. After a huge play from the ‘Cats cemented the win, Dave nudged me. Nodding over to the raven-haired patron sitting at the bar. I made eye contact, instantly getting locked into the tracker beam emanating from her honey-brown eyes. “I’m going to invite her over bro!” Before I could say no, she was sitting at our table. But that couldn’t have happened, I must have some kind of false memory of that.
Ok. I’m going to call the Police.
“WAIT.”
As quickly as I put my phone to my face, it was flown across the room. My first fleeting thought was that I hoped it wasn’t broken. Obviously not that important in hindsight. The feeling of strangulation was taking center stage, and quick. I watched her as she watched me. My vision was shrinking. Due to the violent choking, I’d surmise. Clearly, she wanted to have my undivided attention.
“Shh. I won’t hurt you, Shane. I told you that didn’t I. But you’re not allowed to talk to anyone right now. I need you to focus. Do you remember me now?”
Y-y-yesh. I choked out, quite literally. I felt like the back of my head might touch my back. I was weightless. My feet were not anchored to the floor. Have you ever spontaneously floated off of the ground? Well, it’s quite a new feeling. When she was satisfied with my suffering I dropped to the ground, hard. The fall didn’t hurt. I was so relieved to be breathing again I didn’t care about much else.
“Good, she said.” “Do you remember my name?”,
Fuck. Please remember.
“Of course I do.. uumm..”
She rolled her eyes, bringing with her a change in the atmosphere. The temperature felt like it rose 50 degrees. My body started to tighten again. My arms stuck to my side like I had magically acquired a Houdini straight jacket. Oxygen cutting off.. I didn’t like where this was going. Hold on.. temperature.. rose..
“ROSE!” I shouted, embarrassed at the cracking of my voice like my balls just dropped for the first time. Hello boys.
Slamming to the ground again, I gasped for air like I had been underwater forever. I was pulling my collar off my neck like that would allow more oxygen to flow into my lungs. Laughter from Rose.
“Good. Gooood. You starting to remember now, my sweet Shane?”
I was. I don’t know how, but I was. In the middle of my rare night out with Dave, a lady had joined our table. I somehow blocked all that out. I can see her talking with Dave, but the conversation was muted, at least to me. I remember her ordering drinks. I reluctantly took a sip. Not entirely dissatisfied, but not wanting to finish it.
“I wouldn’t drink, Rose. I haven’t drank in.. in.. some time.” I can’t remember how long it’s been. I fished for my sobriety chips. I can only make out the shapes and colors, I can’t read what they say.
“Here, I see the blue coin with a giant “X” on it, I know it’s at least been 10 years,” I choked out, tossing the chip to her feet. It’s been longer but you’ve got me so fucked, I can’t find my other ones. She let out a slow, ascending laugh.
“You like to live in your own world don’t you Shane?” It is true you haven’t broken your pledge. I didn’t give you anything that would break your sobriety. Still feels strange though, does it not?”
Getting to my knees, I’m now more confused than when she first arrived. Anger started to power through the fear and doubt. I stood up, straightened myself up, and sat down at my desk. I stared at Rose, trying to gain an understanding of what or who she was. What was she after?
“Are you here to kill me Rose? Are you here as a ghost of Christmas past or some shit?” What do you want with me?” That last part came out more pathetic than I meant. Clearly Rose was here to end me, for whatever reason. I thought of calling my wife. Calling my kids. Calling my parents, saying my final goodbyes.
Like she was guesting in the hotel in my mind, she put her right hand up, palm facing me. The gesture had a meaning of “Shut up, you’re not on the right track. Stop.” My mouth closed involuntarily.
Rose, who was seemingly levitating, grounded herself gracefully. She looked at me like I was a toy. She was the big cat here playing with her food. She stood for a moment, then slowly moved down to an Asian squat position. We were almost eye level now, feet away. In one of the most terrifying moments of my life, she sickeningly shimmied her way toward me. She never broke that squatting position. A crab walk from the world of nightmares.
Now face to face, nose to nose, she spoke. She spoke so softly I could barely hear her, even though she was centimeters away from me. “It’s not about you.. Shane.. yes, you stopped drinking.. congratulations..” she said, sarcastically.
My skin felt like it was icing over. Her hand reached out to caress my face. I tried to resist but couldn’t. The disturbing part was that I saw both her right and left hands gingerly placed on my right and left knee, respectively. “What are you?” is the last thing I could muster before her maw unhinged, both jaws opening wide to devour my face and soul.
Two Weeks Later.
My custom “Sonic the Hedgehog,” “green hill zone theme song,” blasts full volume at 7 AM. Almost knocked my fat ass off the couch and onto a pizza box half full of Little Caesars pepperoni pizza inside. I’d hate to waste half of that deliciously tasting cardboard pizza.
Final grades are in. I nervously logged in to my college’s student portal. A 40-year-old man, seeing if he passed a class that 20-year-olds conquer while hopped up on Adderall and kombucha. B+. A sigh of relief. A feeling of dread overtook me, dismissing the relief. I looked behind me.. nothing. Ok, get a hold of yourself. Manage your stress.
“You’ll never manage me.” A sultry voice whispered into my ear, punctuating it with a wet, heavy-breathed lick on my right ear.
Wincing, disgusted, I did fall into the Caesar pizza box, melding into the dough, cheese, and pepperoni. Embarrassing.
Rising to my feet, my pathetic card table that served as my breakfast, lunch, and dinner hub had one solitary item prominently displayed. A red.. red rose. . .

Wow. I feel.. great. Despite a hell of a night. I am hungover, but the hangover is from life. Yuck. Can’t believe I just thought that. Sounds like something a Tony Robbins, TedX talk douche would say. But it does beat what I used to wake up to.
“Like what you’ve done with the place.” Just sitting down to my computer, I jumped at the sound of an unknown intruder to my home. Worst part was my freshly brewed coffee painted the newly hung painting produced by myself. I calmly sat down, not facing the direction of where her voice came from. “Could you sound anymore like an ‘80’s cheese villain?” I asked. Wait.. who is in my home, and what happened last night?
Last night.. approximately 9 hours ago..
Ok.. let’s submit this final project. First slide needs my name, class name, instructor name, and due date. Easy, peazy. Shane Wilson. PSY 300/Mind Control or Freedom? Professor: Modus Mused. Due date: 06/16/22
This is my second go-around at college. My freshman year was way back in 2002. My official major was Sociology with a minor in Psychology. But what I really majored in was partying, as every shithead college dropout says.
That failure to finish my degree has always stayed with me. I have a great family and a moderately successful career. One that didn’t require a Bachelor of Arts degree. I could never shake that piece of paper out of my head though and finally sacked up to finish what I started more than 20 years ago.
I’m cruising now. Nailed this assignment, hit all the requirements, double checked all my sources. Shut laptop. You know what? I should go out. Celebrate for once. I don’t need to drink to have fun, I’m an adult. Maybe a sit down at the corner sports bar. Grab some wings, see if a buddy wants to check out the ballgame. Where’s my cell?
“Hey man, you want to grab a bite real quick? I finished one of my assignments early and kind of feel good you know? Like I should get out for once.. No, they’re out of town. . Nah man, just for a few. The Wildcats are playing aren’t they? Hah! I knew that would get you to come out. Ok brother I’ll see you soon.
I got there first of course, I’m always the first. If you’re not early you’re late is one of the phrases I live by. As I flick my used cancer stick into the gutter, I see my friend rounding the corner. Hasn’t changed in 20 years. Jeans, white tucked-in shirt, and one of the shoe sponsors of dads everywhere: Nike Monarchs. We are the same age, late 30’s, but I would never be caught dead in those shoes.
“Dave, nice to see you man.” He replies the same and we give a bro-hug embrace. We had a great time. He limited himself to just a couple tall beers. He must have slowed down too over the years, not putting the brakes all the way on like me but getting there. Reminiscing about old times, destroying some wings, and watching the cats pull out an impressive win, was cathartic for me. He doesn’t know this, but I’ve always been jealous of my former roommate. After he completed his undergrad degree, he went on to finish his doctorate and now works in the fast-paced intense world of being an ER Doctor. I said before that I have attained my own level of success, but not as impressive as Dave’s. We said our goodbyes and I took the 10-minute walk home while he took a lyft home. I could have absolutely had a drink or two and not worry about driving, but I want to maintain my sobriety.
I didn’t have one drop of alcohol before I attended a college course. I never had one intention of drinking; it just did not appeal to me. I won’t blame it on peer pressure either when I got to higher learning. It just happened. I remember the first time I drank like it was yesterday. My buddy Dave, who I just met with, took me to my first “house party.” He was already a veteran drinker and made sure he brought us our own drink. A gallon, or “handle,” of Admiral Nelsons accompanied by our own plastic red solo cups. I know now that you are required to pay for a cup at most college parties. Dave had that covered. The first taste made my lips numb. What followed was almost two decades of alcohol-dependance. Better late than never, right?
Back to the present, approximately 9 hours later.
What a great night. Best part of nights like these as a recovering alcoholic is the lack of the head-splitting, sick-stomach feel of the morning. Gotta text Dave and tell him thanks for coming out, and glad he took a lyft home, even after only having a couple beers.
“Like what you’ve done with the place,” she said calmly. After spilling my coffee all over, I responded. “What are y- wait.. what is this? Did this happen already?
“That’s not exactly what happened, did it Shane?” I turned to face my intruder for the first time. She was more off-putting than I imagined. Pale white skin, long dark hair, and wearing a burgundy.. school girl outfit?
“Mind telling me what you’re doing in my home?” I said, slowly edging to the kitchen counter, thinking it might be conducive to grab a weapon. The real firepower is upstairs. No chance I’d get to that right now. She also had a faint trail of what looks like blood dried on one side of her puffy red lips. I’m not even going to acknowledge what that might be.
“Relax, Shane. I’m not here to hurt you. That little kitchen knife you plan on going for won’t help you either way.” “I’m honestly hurt you don’t remember me from last night.”
I.. I don’t. Oh no, this is just like college all over again. But this time I know I didn’t have any liquid destruction making bad decisions for me. “Ok, before I call the cops, I’m going to need you to leave. I’m not looking to get hurt, just.. leave.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. Her teeth revealed, the most perfect row of snow-white teeth Shane had ever seen. She notices he has focused on the side of her mouth and conspicuously wipes the dried.. whatever.. from it.
“Sit down stud. I’m not going to leave, and you’re not going to make me.” Shane does as he’s told, not knowing entirely why. “Think Shane. Didn’t you and your friend have a guest join you after your “Wildcats,” won?”
Shane, confused, looked at the ground, running his hands through his jet black hair. “I really don’t know what you mean.” But he was starting to remember. It was hazy, like the old days used to be. “That’s right Shane. Your friend invited me over. You thought it was a bad idea but accepted it. Can’t hurt to have a pretty girl join you for some harmless night out, right?”
I don’t know when she could have joined us, but I am starting to remember. She was pretty, in a Elvira type of way. After a huge play from the ‘Cats cemented the win, Dave nudged me. Nodding over to the raven-haired patron sitting at the bar. I made eye contact, instantly getting locked into the tracker beam emanating from her honey-brown eyes. “I’m going to invite her over bro!” Before I could say no, she was sitting at our table. But that couldn’t have happened, I must have some kind of false memory of that.
Ok. I’m going to call the Police.
“WAIT.”
As quickly as I put my phone to my face, it was flown across the room. My first fleeting thought was that I hoped it wasn’t broken. Obviously not that important in hindsight. The feeling of strangulation was taking center stage, and quick. I watched her as she watched me. My vision was shrinking. Due to the violent choking, I’d surmise. Clearly, she wanted to have my undivided attention.
“Shh. I won’t hurt you, Shane. I told you that didn’t I. But you’re not allowed to talk to anyone right now. I need you to focus. Do you remember me now?”
Y-y-yesh. I choked out, quite literally. I felt like the back of my head might touch my back. I was weightless. My feet were not anchored to the floor. Have you ever spontaneously floated off of the ground? Well, it’s quite a new feeling. When she was satisfied with my suffering I dropped to the ground, hard. The fall didn’t hurt. I was so relieved to be breathing again I didn’t care about much else.
“Good, she said.” “Do you remember my name?”,
Fuck. Please remember.
“Of course I do.. uumm..”
She rolled her eyes, bringing with her a change in the atmosphere. The temperature felt like it rose 50 degrees. My body started to tighten again. My arms stuck to my side like I had magically acquired a Houdini straight jacket. Oxygen cutting off.. I didn’t like where this was going. Hold on.. temperature.. rose..
“ROSE!” I shouted, embarrassed at the cracking of my voice like my balls just dropped for the first time. Hello boys.
Slamming to the ground again, I gasped for air like I had been underwater forever. I was pulling my collar off my neck like that would allow more oxygen to flow into my lungs. Laughter from Rose.
“Good. Gooood. You starting to remember now, my sweet Shane?”
I was. I don’t know how, but I was. In the middle of my rare night out with Dave, a lady had joined our table. I somehow blocked all that out. I can see her talking with Dave, but the conversation was muted, at least to me. I remember her ordering drinks. I reluctantly took a sip. Not entirely dissatisfied, but not wanting to finish it.
“I wouldn’t drink, Rose. I haven’t drank in.. in.. some time.” I can’t remember how long it’s been. I fished for my sobriety chips. I can only make out the shapes and colors, I can’t read what they say.
“Here, I see the blue coin with a giant “X” on it, I know it’s at least been 10 years,” I choked out, tossing the chip to her feet. It’s been longer but you’ve got me so fucked, I can’t find my other ones. She let out a slow, ascending laugh.
“You like to live in your own world don’t you Shane?” It is true you haven’t broken your pledge. I didn’t give you anything that would break your sobriety. Still feels strange though, does it not?”
Getting to my knees, I’m now more confused than when she first arrived. Anger started to power through the fear and doubt. I stood up, straightened myself up, and sat down at my desk. I stared at Rose, trying to gain an understanding of what or who she was. What was she after?
“Are you here to kill me Rose? Are you here as a ghost of Christmas past or some shit?” What do you want with me?” That last part came out more pathetic than I meant. Clearly Rose was here to end me, for whatever reason. I thought of calling my wife. Calling my kids. Calling my parents, saying my final goodbyes.
Like she was guesting in the hotel in my mind, she put her right hand up, palm facing me. The gesture had a meaning of “Shut up, you’re not on the right track. Stop.” My mouth closed involuntarily.
Rose, who was seemingly levitating, grounded herself gracefully. She looked at me like I was a toy. She was the big cat here playing with her food. She stood for a moment, then slowly moved down to an Asian squat position. We were almost eye level now, feet away. In one of the most terrifying moments of my life, she sickeningly shimmied her way toward me. She never broke that squatting position. A crab walk from the world of nightmares.
Now face to face, nose to nose, she spoke. She spoke so softly I could barely hear her, even though she was centimeters away from me. “It’s not about you.. Shane.. yes, you stopped drinking.. congratulations..” she said, sarcastically.
My skin felt like it was icing over. Her hand reached out to caress my face. I tried to resist but couldn’t. The disturbing part was that I saw both her right and left hands gingerly placed on my right and left knee, respectively. “What are you?” is the last thing I could muster before her maw unhinged, both jaws opening wide to devour my face and soul.
Two Weeks Later.
My custom “Sonic the Hedgehog,” “green hill zone theme song,” blasts full volume at 7 AM. Almost knocked my fat ass off the couch and onto a pizza box half full of Little Caesars pepperoni pizza inside. I’d hate to waste half of that deliciously tasting cardboard pizza.
Final grades are in. I nervously logged in to my college’s student portal. A 40-year-old man, seeing if he passed a class that 20-year-olds conquer while hopped up on Adderall and kombucha. B+. A sigh of relief. A feeling of dread overtook me, dismissing the relief. I looked behind me.. nothing. Ok, get a hold of yourself. Manage your stress.
“You’ll never manage me.” A sultry voice whispered into my ear, punctuating it with a wet, heavy-breathed lick on my right ear.
Wincing, disgusted, I did fall into the Caesar pizza box, melding into the dough, cheese, and pepperoni. Embarrassing.
Rising to my feet, my pathetic card table that served as my breakfast, lunch, and dinner hub had one solitary item prominently displayed. A red.. red rose. . .

Wow. I feel.. great. Despite a hell of a night. I am hungover, but the hangover is from life. Yuck. Can’t believe I just thought that. Sounds like something a Tony Robbins, TedX talk douche would say. But it does beat what I used to wake up to.
“Like what you’ve done with the place.” Just sitting down to my computer, I jumped at the sound of an unknown intruder to my home. Worst part was my freshly brewed coffee painted the newly hung painting produced by myself. I calmly sat down, not facing the direction of where her voice came from. “Could you sound anymore like an ‘80’s cheese villain?” I asked. Wait.. who is in my home, and what happened last night?
Last night.. approximately 9 hours ago..
Ok.. let’s submit this final project. First slide needs my name, class name, instructor name, and due date. Easy, peazy. Shane Wilson. PSY 300/Mind Control or Freedom? Professor: Modus Mused. Due date: 06/16/22
This is my second go-around at college. My freshman year was way back in 2002. My official major was Sociology with a minor in Psychology. But what I really majored in was partying, as every shithead college dropout says.
That failure to finish my degree has always stayed with me. I have a great family and a moderately successful career. One that didn’t require a Bachelor of Arts degree. I could never shake that piece of paper out of my head though and finally sacked up to finish what I started more than 20 years ago.
I’m cruising now. Nailed this assignment, hit all the requirements, double checked all my sources. Shut laptop. You know what? I should go out. Celebrate for once. I don’t need to drink to have fun, I’m an adult. Maybe a sit down at the corner sports bar. Grab some wings, see if a buddy wants to check out the ballgame. Where’s my cell?
“Hey man, you want to grab a bite real quick? I finished one of my assignments early and kind of feel good you know? Like I should get out for once.. No, they’re out of town. . Nah man, just for a few. The Wildcats are playing aren’t they? Hah! I knew that would get you to come out. Ok brother I’ll see you soon.
I got there first of course, I’m always the first. If you’re not early you’re late is one of the phrases I live by. As I flick my used cancer stick into the gutter, I see my friend rounding the corner. Hasn’t changed in 20 years. Jeans, white tucked-in shirt, and one of the shoe sponsors of dads everywhere: Nike Monarchs. We are the same age, late 30’s, but I would never be caught dead in those shoes.
“Dave, nice to see you man.” He replies the same and we give a bro-hug embrace. We had a great time. He limited himself to just a couple tall beers. He must have slowed down too over the years, not putting the brakes all the way on like me but getting there. Reminiscing about old times, destroying some wings, and watching the cats pull out an impressive win, was cathartic for me. He doesn’t know this, but I’ve always been jealous of my former roommate. After he completed his undergrad degree, he went on to finish his doctorate and now works in the fast-paced intense world of being an ER Doctor. I said before that I have attained my own level of success, but not as impressive as Dave’s. We said our goodbyes and I took the 10-minute walk home while he took a lyft home. I could have absolutely had a drink or two and not worry about driving, but I want to maintain my sobriety.
I didn’t have one drop of alcohol before I attended a college course. I never had one intention of drinking; it just did not appeal to me. I won’t blame it on peer pressure either when I got to higher learning. It just happened. I remember the first time I drank like it was yesterday. My buddy Dave, who I just met with, took me to my first “house party.” He was already a veteran drinker and made sure he brought us our own drink. A gallon, or “handle,” of Admiral Nelsons accompanied by our own plastic red solo cups. I know now that you are required to pay for a cup at most college parties. Dave had that covered. The first taste made my lips numb. What followed was almost two decades of alcohol-dependance. Better late than never, right?
Back to the present, approximately 9 hours later.
What a great night. Best part of nights like these as a recovering alcoholic is the lack of the head-splitting, sick-stomach feel of the morning. Gotta text Dave and tell him thanks for coming out, and glad he took a lyft home, even after only having a couple beers.
“Like what you’ve done with the place,” she said calmly. After spilling my coffee all over, I responded. “What are y- wait.. what is this? Did this happen already?
“That’s not exactly what happened, did it Shane?” I turned to face my intruder for the first time. She was more off-putting than I imagined. Pale white skin, long dark hair, and wearing a burgundy.. school girl outfit?
“Mind telling me what you’re doing in my home?” I said, slowly edging to the kitchen counter, thinking it might be conducive to grab a weapon. The real firepower is upstairs. No chance I’d get to that right now. She also had a faint trail of what looks like blood dried on one side of her puffy red lips. I’m not even going to acknowledge what that might be.
“Relax, Shane. I’m not here to hurt you. That little kitchen knife you plan on going for won’t help you either way.” “I’m honestly hurt you don’t remember me from last night.”
I.. I don’t. Oh no, this is just like college all over again. But this time I know I didn’t have any liquid destruction making bad decisions for me. “Ok, before I call the cops, I’m going to need you to leave. I’m not looking to get hurt, just.. leave.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. Her teeth revealed, the most perfect row of snow-white teeth Shane had ever seen. She notices he has focused on the side of her mouth and conspicuously wipes the dried.. whatever.. from it.
“Sit down stud. I’m not going to leave, and you’re not going to make me.” Shane does as he’s told, not knowing entirely why. “Think Shane. Didn’t you and your friend have a guest join you after your “Wildcats,” won?”
Shane, confused, looked at the ground, running his hands through his jet black hair. “I really don’t know what you mean.” But he was starting to remember. It was hazy, like the old days used to be. “That’s right Shane. Your friend invited me over. You thought it was a bad idea but accepted it. Can’t hurt to have a pretty girl join you for some harmless night out, right?”
I don’t know when she could have joined us, but I am starting to remember. She was pretty, in a Elvira type of way. After a huge play from the ‘Cats cemented the win, Dave nudged me. Nodding over to the raven-haired patron sitting at the bar. I made eye contact, instantly getting locked into the tracker beam emanating from her honey-brown eyes. “I’m going to invite her over bro!” Before I could say no, she was sitting at our table. But that couldn’t have happened, I must have some kind of false memory of that.
Ok. I’m going to call the Police.
“WAIT.”
As quickly as I put my phone to my face, it was flown across the room. My first fleeting thought was that I hoped it wasn’t broken. Obviously not that important in hindsight. The feeling of strangulation was taking center stage, and quick. I watched her as she watched me. My vision was shrinking. Due to the violent choking, I’d surmise. Clearly, she wanted to have my undivided attention.
“Shh. I won’t hurt you, Shane. I told you that didn’t I. But you’re not allowed to talk to anyone right now. I need you to focus. Do you remember me now?”
Y-y-yesh. I choked out, quite literally. I felt like the back of my head might touch my back. I was weightless. My feet were not anchored to the floor. Have you ever spontaneously floated off of the ground? Well, it’s quite a new feeling. When she was satisfied with my suffering I dropped to the ground, hard. The fall didn’t hurt. I was so relieved to be breathing again I didn’t care about much else.
“Good, she said.” “Do you remember my name?”,
Fuck. Please remember.
“Of course I do.. uumm..”
She rolled her eyes, bringing with her a change in the atmosphere. The temperature felt like it rose 50 degrees. My body started to tighten again. My arms stuck to my side like I had magically acquired a Houdini straight jacket. Oxygen cutting off.. I didn’t like where this was going. Hold on.. temperature.. rose..
“ROSE!” I shouted, embarrassed at the cracking of my voice like my balls just dropped for the first time. Hello boys.
Slamming to the ground again, I gasped for air like I had been underwater forever. I was pulling my collar off my neck like that would allow more oxygen to flow into my lungs. Laughter from Rose.
“Good. Gooood. You starting to remember now, my sweet Shane?”
I was. I don’t know how, but I was. In the middle of my rare night out with Dave, a lady had joined our table. I somehow blocked all that out. I can see her talking with Dave, but the conversation was muted, at least to me. I remember her ordering drinks. I reluctantly took a sip. Not entirely dissatisfied, but not wanting to finish it.
“I wouldn’t drink, Rose. I haven’t drank in.. in.. some time.” I can’t remember how long it’s been. I fished for my sobriety chips. I can only make out the shapes and colors, I can’t read what they say.
“Here, I see the blue coin with a giant “X” on it, I know it’s at least been 10 years,” I choked out, tossing the chip to her feet. It’s been longer but you’ve got me so fucked, I can’t find my other ones. She let out a slow, ascending laugh.
“You like to live in your own world don’t you Shane?” It is true you haven’t broken your pledge. I didn’t give you anything that would break your sobriety. Still feels strange though, does it not?”
Getting to my knees, I’m now more confused than when she first arrived. Anger started to power through the fear and doubt. I stood up, straightened myself up, and sat down at my desk. I stared at Rose, trying to gain an understanding of what or who she was. What was she after?
“Are you here to kill me Rose? Are you here as a ghost of Christmas past or some shit?” What do you want with me?” That last part came out more pathetic than I meant. Clearly Rose was here to end me, for whatever reason. I thought of calling my wife. Calling my kids. Calling my parents, saying my final goodbyes.
Like she was guesting in the hotel in my mind, she put her right hand up, palm facing me. The gesture had a meaning of “Shut up, you’re not on the right track. Stop.” My mouth closed involuntarily.
Rose, who was seemingly levitating, grounded herself gracefully. She looked at me like I was a toy. She was the big cat here playing with her food. She stood for a moment, then slowly moved down to an Asian squat position. We were almost eye level now, feet away. In one of the most terrifying moments of my life, she sickeningly shimmied her way toward me. She never broke that squatting position. A crab walk from the world of nightmares.
Now face to face, nose to nose, she spoke. She spoke so softly I could barely hear her, even though she was centimeters away from me. “It’s not about you.. Shane.. yes, you stopped drinking.. congratulations..” she said, sarcastically.
My skin felt like it was icing over. Her hand reached out to caress my face. I tried to resist but couldn’t. The disturbing part was that I saw both her right and left hands gingerly placed on my right and left knee, respectively. “What are you?” is the last thing I could muster before her maw unhinged, both jaws opening wide to devour my face and soul.
Two Weeks Later.
My custom “Sonic the Hedgehog,” “green hill zone theme song,” blasts full volume at 7 AM. Almost knocked my fat ass off the couch and onto a pizza box half full of Little Caesars pepperoni pizza inside. I’d hate to waste half of that deliciously tasting cardboard pizza.
Final grades are in. I nervously logged in to my college’s student portal. A 40-year-old man, seeing if he passed a class that 20-year-olds conquer while hopped up on Adderall and kombucha. B+. A sigh of relief. A feeling of dread overtook me, dismissing the relief. I looked behind me.. nothing. Ok, get a hold of yourself. Manage your stress.
“You’ll never manage me.” A sultry voice whispered into my ear, punctuating it with a wet, heavy-breathed lick on my right ear.
Wincing, disgusted, I did fall into the Caesar pizza box, melding into the dough, cheese, and pepperoni. Embarrassing.
Rising to my feet, my pathetic card table that served as my breakfast, lunch, and dinner hub had one solitary item prominently displayed. A red.. red rose. . .

Wow. I feel.. great. Despite a hell of a night. I am hungover, but the hangover is from life. Yuck. Can’t believe I just thought that. Sounds like something a Tony Robbins, TedX talk douche would say. But it does beat what I used to wake up to.
“Like what you’ve done with the place.” Just sitting down to my computer, I jumped at the sound of an unknown intruder to my home. Worst part was my freshly brewed coffee painted the newly hung painting produced by myself. I calmly sat down, not facing the direction of where her voice came from. “Could you sound anymore like an ‘80’s cheese villain?” I asked. Wait.. who is in my home, and what happened last night?
Last night.. approximately 9 hours ago..
Ok.. let’s submit this final project. First slide needs my name, class name, instructor name, and due date. Easy, peazy. Shane Wilson. PSY 300/Mind Control or Freedom? Professor: Modus Mused. Due date: 06/16/22
This is my second go-around at college. My freshman year was way back in 2002. My official major was Sociology with a minor in Psychology. But what I really majored in was partying, as every shithead college dropout says.
That failure to finish my degree has always stayed with me. I have a great family and a moderately successful career. One that didn’t require a Bachelor of Arts degree. I could never shake that piece of paper out of my head though and finally sacked up to finish what I started more than 20 years ago.
I’m cruising now. Nailed this assignment, hit all the requirements, double checked all my sources. Shut laptop. You know what? I should go out. Celebrate for once. I don’t need to drink to have fun, I’m an adult. Maybe a sit down at the corner sports bar. Grab some wings, see if a buddy wants to check out the ballgame. Where’s my cell?
“Hey man, you want to grab a bite real quick? I finished one of my assignments early and kind of feel good you know? Like I should get out for once.. No, they’re out of town. . Nah man, just for a few. The Wildcats are playing aren’t they? Hah! I knew that would get you to come out. Ok brother I’ll see you soon.
I got there first of course, I’m always the first. If you’re not early you’re late is one of the phrases I live by. As I flick my used cancer stick into the gutter, I see my friend rounding the corner. Hasn’t changed in 20 years. Jeans, white tucked-in shirt, and one of the shoe sponsors of dads everywhere: Nike Monarchs. We are the same age, late 30’s, but I would never be caught dead in those shoes.
“Dave, nice to see you man.” He replies the same and we give a bro-hug embrace. We had a great time. He limited himself to just a couple tall beers. He must have slowed down too over the years, not putting the brakes all the way on like me but getting there. Reminiscing about old times, destroying some wings, and watching the cats pull out an impressive win, was cathartic for me. He doesn’t know this, but I’ve always been jealous of my former roommate. After he completed his undergrad degree, he went on to finish his doctorate and now works in the fast-paced intense world of being an ER Doctor. I said before that I have attained my own level of success, but not as impressive as Dave’s. We said our goodbyes and I took the 10-minute walk home while he took a lyft home. I could have absolutely had a drink or two and not worry about driving, but I want to maintain my sobriety.
I didn’t have one drop of alcohol before I attended a college course. I never had one intention of drinking; it just did not appeal to me. I won’t blame it on peer pressure either when I got to higher learning. It just happened. I remember the first time I drank like it was yesterday. My buddy Dave, who I just met with, took me to my first “house party.” He was already a veteran drinker and made sure he brought us our own drink. A gallon, or “handle,” of Admiral Nelsons accompanied by our own plastic red solo cups. I know now that you are required to pay for a cup at most college parties. Dave had that covered. The first taste made my lips numb. What followed was almost two decades of alcohol-dependance. Better late than never, right?
Back to the present, approximately 9 hours later.
What a great night. Best part of nights like these as a recovering alcoholic is the lack of the head-splitting, sick-stomach feel of the morning. Gotta text Dave and tell him thanks for coming out, and glad he took a lyft home, even after only having a couple beers.
“Like what you’ve done with the place,” she said calmly. After spilling my coffee all over, I responded. “What are y- wait.. what is this? Did this happen already?
“That’s not exactly what happened, did it Shane?” I turned to face my intruder for the first time. She was more off-putting than I imagined. Pale white skin, long dark hair, and wearing a burgundy.. school girl outfit?
“Mind telling me what you’re doing in my home?” I said, slowly edging to the kitchen counter, thinking it might be conducive to grab a weapon. The real firepower is upstairs. No chance I’d get to that right now. She also had a faint trail of what looks like blood dried on one side of her puffy red lips. I’m not even going to acknowledge what that might be.
“Relax, Shane. I’m not here to hurt you. That little kitchen knife you plan on going for won’t help you either way.” “I’m honestly hurt you don’t remember me from last night.”
I.. I don’t. Oh no, this is just like college all over again. But this time I know I didn’t have any liquid destruction making bad decisions for me. “Ok, before I call the cops, I’m going to need you to leave. I’m not looking to get hurt, just.. leave.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. Her teeth revealed, the most perfect row of snow-white teeth Shane had ever seen. She notices he has focused on the side of her mouth and conspicuously wipes the dried.. whatever.. from it.
“Sit down stud. I’m not going to leave, and you’re not going to make me.” Shane does as he’s told, not knowing entirely why. “Think Shane. Didn’t you and your friend have a guest join you after your “Wildcats,” won?”
Shane, confused, looked at the ground, running his hands through his jet black hair. “I really don’t know what you mean.” But he was starting to remember. It was hazy, like the old days used to be. “That’s right Shane. Your friend invited me over. You thought it was a bad idea but accepted it. Can’t hurt to have a pretty girl join you for some harmless night out, right?”
I don’t know when she could have joined us, but I am starting to remember. She was pretty, in a Elvira type of way. After a huge play from the ‘Cats cemented the win, Dave nudged me. Nodding over to the raven-haired patron sitting at the bar. I made eye contact, instantly getting locked into the tracker beam emanating from her honey-brown eyes. “I’m going to invite her over bro!” Before I could say no, she was sitting at our table. But that couldn’t have happened, I must have some kind of false memory of that.
Ok. I’m going to call the Police.
“WAIT.”
As quickly as I put my phone to my face, it was flown across the room. My first fleeting thought was that I hoped it wasn’t broken. Obviously not that important in hindsight. The feeling of strangulation was taking center stage, and quick. I watched her as she watched me. My vision was shrinking. Due to the violent choking, I’d surmise. Clearly, she wanted to have my undivided attention.
“Shh. I won’t hurt you, Shane. I told you that didn’t I. But you’re not allowed to talk to anyone right now. I need you to focus. Do you remember me now?”
Y-y-yesh. I choked out, quite literally. I felt like the back of my head might touch my back. I was weightless. My feet were not anchored to the floor. Have you ever spontaneously floated off of the ground? Well, it’s quite a new feeling. When she was satisfied with my suffering I dropped to the ground, hard. The fall didn’t hurt. I was so relieved to be breathing again I didn’t care about much else.
“Good, she said.” “Do you remember my name?”,
Fuck. Please remember.
“Of course I do.. uumm..”
She rolled her eyes, bringing with her a change in the atmosphere. The temperature felt like it rose 50 degrees. My body started to tighten again. My arms stuck to my side like I had magically acquired a Houdini straight jacket. Oxygen cutting off.. I didn’t like where this was going. Hold on.. temperature.. rose..
“ROSE!” I shouted, embarrassed at the cracking of my voice like my balls just dropped for the first time. Hello boys.
Slamming to the ground again, I gasped for air like I had been underwater forever. I was pulling my collar off my neck like that would allow more oxygen to flow into my lungs. Laughter from Rose.
“Good. Gooood. You starting to remember now, my sweet Shane?”
I was. I don’t know how, but I was. In the middle of my rare night out with Dave, a lady had joined our table. I somehow blocked all that out. I can see her talking with Dave, but the conversation was muted, at least to me. I remember her ordering drinks. I reluctantly took a sip. Not entirely dissatisfied, but not wanting to finish it.
“I wouldn’t drink, Rose. I haven’t drank in.. in.. some time.” I can’t remember how long it’s been. I fished for my sobriety chips. I can only make out the shapes and colors, I can’t read what they say.
“Here, I see the blue coin with a giant “X” on it, I know it’s at least been 10 years,” I choked out, tossing the chip to her feet. It’s been longer but you’ve got me so fucked, I can’t find my other ones. She let out a slow, ascending laugh.
“You like to live in your own world don’t you Shane?” It is true you haven’t broken your pledge. I didn’t give you anything that would break your sobriety. Still feels strange though, does it not?”
Getting to my knees, I’m now more confused than when she first arrived. Anger started to power through the fear and doubt. I stood up, straightened myself up, and sat down at my desk. I stared at Rose, trying to gain an understanding of what or who she was. What was she after?
“Are you here to kill me Rose? Are you here as a ghost of Christmas past or some shit?” What do you want with me?” That last part came out more pathetic than I meant. Clearly Rose was here to end me, for whatever reason. I thought of calling my wife. Calling my kids. Calling my parents, saying my final goodbyes.
Like she was guesting in the hotel in my mind, she put her right hand up, palm facing me. The gesture had a meaning of “Shut up, you’re not on the right track. Stop.” My mouth closed involuntarily.
Rose, who was seemingly levitating, grounded herself gracefully. She looked at me like I was a toy. She was the big cat here playing with her food. She stood for a moment, then slowly moved down to an Asian squat position. We were almost eye level now, feet away. In one of the most terrifying moments of my life, she sickeningly shimmied her way toward me. She never broke that squatting position. A crab walk from the world of nightmares.
Now face to face, nose to nose, she spoke. She spoke so softly I could barely hear her, even though she was centimeters away from me. “It’s not about you.. Shane.. yes, you stopped drinking.. congratulations..” she said, sarcastically.
My skin felt like it was icing over. Her hand reached out to caress my face. I tried to resist but couldn’t. The disturbing part was that I saw both her right and left hands gingerly placed on my right and left knee, respectively. “What are you?” is the last thing I could muster before her maw unhinged, both jaws opening wide to devour my face and soul.
Two Weeks Later.
My custom “Sonic the Hedgehog,” “green hill zone theme song,” blasts full volume at 7 AM. Almost knocked my fat ass off the couch and onto a pizza box half full of Little Caesars pepperoni pizza inside. I’d hate to waste half of that deliciously tasting cardboard pizza.
Final grades are in. I nervously logged in to my college’s student portal. A 40-year-old man, seeing if he passed a class that 20-year-olds conquer while hopped up on Adderall and kombucha. B+. A sigh of relief. A feeling of dread overtook me, dismissing the relief. I looked behind me.. nothing. Ok, get a hold of yourself. Manage your stress.
“You’ll never manage me.” A sultry voice whispered into my ear, punctuating it with a wet, heavy-breathed lick on my right ear.
Wincing, disgusted, I did fall into the Caesar pizza box, melding into the dough, cheese, and pepperoni. Embarrassing.
Rising to my feet, my pathetic card table that served as my breakfast, lunch, and dinner hub had one solitary item prominently displayed. A red.. red rose. . .